


but first they must catch you

by CosmicEpithet



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bonding, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fake Character Death, Ganon as emperor, Ganon won AU, Gen, Hyrule is a seer, It's a lot of different things put together, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Secrets, Wind will be here eventually I promise, all game plots at once AU?, and then just kinda got away from me, checks notes, come get yalls juice, enjoy, ft. the Zeldas, heavy inspiration from Watership Down, hey I heard y'all like some uhhhh, it started as an All The Game Plots Happen At Once AU + watership down au, let me know if I need to add tags or warnings, local farm mom kicks butt, more tags to come probably, nine heroes and princesses at once, slow burn found family, takes names, there's a rebellion, this one's been cooking for a while
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 102,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26049667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicEpithet/pseuds/CosmicEpithet
Summary: Twilight fumbled not to drop the bag. His left hand came up to hold it and Hyrule strained his mind to remember…in his dream, something was there, something invisible to the eye but searing with powerful light, a familiar shape just there for the blink of an eye…Hyrule stilled. “Twilight. That’s not your real name, is it?”Twilight and Malon both went rigid. Malon inched closer, guarded wariness overtaking her concern.Hyrule threw caution into the wind. If he was right, now was the best time he was going to get. “Hyrule isn’t my real name either. I saw your hand in my dream. You had the Triforce of Courage there.” He fought down panic at the way their eyes widened, the horror growing there aimed at him. “I have it too. Your name is Link, isn’t it?”---In a kingdom where Ganon's finally won and crowned himself emperor, the Goddess chooses nine heroes and princesses in one era as the final hope of a desperate world.
Relationships: Artemis/Warriors (Linked Universe), Four & Dot, Four & Malon, Four & mysterious warrior, Four & the Minish, Four's colors & each other, Hyrule & Twilight & Wild & Legend, Hyrule & Twilight & Wild (Linked Universe), Hyrule & Twilight (Linked Universe), Malon & being everyone's mom, More to come, Sky/Sun (Linked Universe), Some relationships not tagged, the Zeldas & each other
Comments: 241
Kudos: 371





	1. Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> _“All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, listener, runner, prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed.”_  
>  -Richard Adams, Watership Down
> 
> (you probably know if you're in this tag, but just in case, this story is based off of these guys by jojo56830: https://linkeduniverse.tumblr.com/post/173747189369/this-is-linkeduniverse-101-welcome-linked )
> 
> This fandom is badly in need of more longfic and I aim to deliver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyrule makes some new friends. Sky has a strange dream.

**PART ONE**

* * *

The rain was pounding down in sheets, relentless and flickering by the light of the storm when Hyrule finally found it.

He crouched in the scant shelter of the trees, trying to be sure. He was buffeted by a new gust of howling wind and felt a shiver wrack his body from head to toe, water flying off in rivulets from where it soaked his threadbare cloak.

His memory was shadowy and blurred, but through the gray mist thrown up by the rain he was able to make out a familiar enough corner of a farmhouse. Some ways ahead, he thought he could see the silhouette of a wooden arch by a road, and he could hear the wild squeaking and banging of a hanging sign there being blown in the wind, though he couldn’t read it. Light spilled out through the downpour in yellow shafts from behind window curtains. It looked warm.

Hyrule gathered his cloak tighter around his shoulders. For better or for worse, his dreams had never steered him wrong before. Whatever this place was, it was going to be important.

All that remained now was to see whether the dream about this place had been meant as guidance or as a warning.

* * *

Twilight was nearly startled into cutting his finger off by a knock on the front door. He let the air rush out of his pursed lips at the close call and gingerly put down his knife to back away from the carrots. How could somebody be visiting in weather like this? He had to be hearing things.

“Twi? Am I imagining that I just heard someone knockin’?” His mother leaned her head into the kitchen, one palm braced against the doorframe with her fingers held up so they wouldn’t leave ink stains. A quill was tucked between two fingers, though Twilight noted with some amusement that she seemed to have forgotten about it long enough to leave a dark streak in the red hair near her temple.

“Well,” Twilight said, “if you heard it too, then I guess not, ‘cause I know I did.” He glanced back at the half-chopped vegetables, then snagged his cutting knife to hold at the ready.

“Twi, what are you doin’? You’re gonna give some poor fool out there a scare.” Malon came through the kitchen after him, wiping her fingers off on her apron.

Twilight answered grimly as he put a hand on the doorknob. “If it’s someone from the castle, I’m gonna be ready this time. I’m runnin’ out of patience—”

Malon neatly took the knife from his hand. “You are gonna get yourself killed that way. Be smart. Now let’s see who it is,” she slid around him to open the door herself, “before you go jumpin’ to any conclusions.”

Twilight didn’t know what either of them were expecting, but it wasn’t a drenched kid hunching outside their door and shivering like a half-drowned kitten.

“Um.” The kid directed his words firmly to their feet. “Hello. Sorry to—um. To bother you, but…the weather, it’s getting kind of dangerous. Would there be any way I could—”

Twilight was impressed that his mom held out as long as she did before dragging the kid inside with a “Oh, of course, darlin’, get in here, you poor thing!”

Twilight snorted at the shell-shocked expression on the kid’s face when he found himself caught up in a whirlwind of blankets and towels from the cabinet that ended with him buried in a nest by the kitchen fireplace, somehow holding warm milk that didn’t seem to exist thirty seconds ago.

“Uh.” The kid said, blinking with wide eyes. “Thank you.” He looked down at the tin cup of milk in his hands as if still trying to puzzle out where it had appeared from.

“Hello,” Twilight said in a mock-polite voice, as if his mother hadn’t just gathered the poor guy up like a wayward baby chick. “Good evening, pleasure to meet you. Mom,” he teased, “I see you’re already acquainted, maybe you could introduce me to your friend here.”

“Oh, hush.” Malon made a face at him. “I’m not letting any young man stand out there in that,” she gestured out the window, “any longer than he has to, especially one as skinny as this one.”

The kid looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be offended or not, but decidedly tipped toward ‘not’ when Malon shoved a loaf of bread into his lap beside the cup of milk.

“Thank you,” he said again, quiet. He held the loaf of bread close. “I promise I just needed somewhere to get out of the weather, this really isn’t necessary.”

“Isn’t necessary,” Malon repeated under her breath, incredulous. Then, gentler and at a more normal volume, “eat that bread, honey, and soon we’ll have some soup on for dinner.”

“…yes, ma’am.” He took an obedient bite.

“And by ‘we’ll have some soup on for dinner,’ you mean _‘I’ll_ have some soup on for dinner?’” Twilight raised an eyebrow, pointing to himself. “I’m gonna need my kitchen knife back for that, Mama.”

“As long as I can trust you with it,” she teased, ruffling his hair. “Lemme finish up with the numbers from that last grain sale and I’ll come in and help you.” She handed back the knife and went to the book out in the next room, pulling the quill out from behind her ear. “You got a name, darlin’?” She directed to their visitor.

He hurried to swallow a bite. “Hyrule.”

“Interesting, but alright,” Twilight said. He pulled the cutting board over and started up where he left off on the last carrot. “I s’pose people are named after cities all the time, so that’s not too terribly odd. Not that I can talk,” he threw over his shoulder. “I’m Twilight. My mom in there is Malon.”

Malon smiled and waved a couple fingers, still focused on the balance book.

“Nice to meet you. Thanks. Again. For your hospitality. Not…” Hyrule gave a flat laugh that didn’t meet his eyes. “Not everyone is so kind to strangers, these days.”

The guy couldn’t be all that much younger than Twilight, but Twilight always did get strong feelings when it came to kids and this was no exception. He fought down a flare of protective instinct and grinned wryly. “Well, you don’t look like any kinda burglar or monster or nothin’ to me, so I think we’ll get along just fine. What brings you out here, anyway? Especially in this weather? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Hyrule took a bite of his bread, so Twilight moved on to peeling potatoes while he waited. He used the edge of his knife to push the chopped carrots into his soup pot and snagged a couple extra potatoes while he was at it. He’d need to adjust the recipe to make more than he’d originally intended.

“Just…traveling.” Hyrule said at length. “Maybe looking for something. Can’t tell yet. Don’t really have anywhere to go back to right now, so I got caught out in the storm.”

A spike of sympathy tugged at Twilight’s heart. He took a breath to respond, but his mom beat him to it. “Well, feel free to stay here as long as you need to, darlin’. We don’t mind the company,” she looked to Twilight, who nodded his agreement, “and we can help you look for somewhere to go if you want.”

A small, hesitant smile tugged at Hyrule’s face, half-concealed in the mountain of blankets. “Thank you. Again. I’ll try not to be too much trouble.”

* * *

_Th…at…and…must…fr…me…chains…_

In the deep, dead silence of night, Sky’s heart skipped a beat and he startled awake.

Bleary-eyed, he blinked at the shadows of his room and tried to figure out what woke him up. Everything seemed to be in order—all his stuff was still stacked in precarious piles where he left it. Nothing looked like it had fallen over and caused any kind of loud noise. He couldn’t hear anybody walking out in the hall, either.

There was…some strange noise in the hall, though. A chiming, like notes from some kind of weird, echoey instrument he’d never heard before. Sky squinted at the crack beneath his door and could swear for a second that he saw a soft brush of blueish-purple light.

_…hand…you…st…ains…_

He sat up, heart beating faster. Everything around him was gray and surreal in the moonlight. Again, he heard the noise from the hall. It was getting farther away.

He planted bare feet on the floorboards and threw the door open.

There was nobody there.

_The hour is at hand. You must fr—_

Sky opened his eyes to morning, back in his bed.

* * *

_Pounding, like thunder, but hollower, more solid. Angry voices, Hyrule’s heart in his throat._

_Running. Metal clanging, shouting. A crackling, groaning roar like some terrible, hungry beast, light flickering unnatural and orange. Fire. The rush of rain, slick under Hyrule’s feet, down his face—hot. Blood mixed in with the water. Running faster, lungs burning._

_The scraping ring of metal-on-metal, and Hyrule saw the shadowy image of Twilight fighting off a figure in uniform. Something was on the back of Twilight's left hand, invisible and powerful and blindingly bright. The shadows behind them shifted, roiling, streaking into faces, helmets, spears—lots. Too many. A flapping standard, illuminated for a second in a flash of lightning, and Hyrule’s stomach dropped at the blood-red inverted eye._

_“Go! You have to get out of here! We’ll find each other again, I promise. You have to—"_

_Fingers slipped through a hand._

Hyrule sat bolt upright and gasped for air.

“…rule? Hyrule! Deep breaths, you’re safe. It was a nightmare.”

Hyrule’s ears rang as the world swam around him and he felt dangerously lightheaded, heart beating a hole in his lungs like he’d run a mile. He swallowed and realized he was trembling.

Somebody’s hand was steady and warm on his arm. He stared down at it uncomprehendingly until his mind caught up and connected the voice speaking with a source. Twilight was crouched beside him, watching his face with open concern.

“It’s me. Twilight, remember? You’re staying at our house. You’re in my room, you’re spending the night until you decide what you want to do in the morning.”

Awareness of where he was started to fade back into the corners of Hyrule’s mind. The room was small but clean and cozy, with a bed and end table pushed into one corner and a soft, well-worn rug laid out on the floorboards. A candle on the bedside table threw off little warm flickers against Twilight’s eyes and Hyrule’s hands clutching his blanket. The storm raging outside was reduced to a muffled roar.

Hyrule scrutinized Twilight’s left hand at his side. Nothing seemed any different about it.

Hyrule tried to speak and found his mouth dry.

“You with me?” Twilight waved a few fingers in front of Hyrule’s eyes and checked to see if he followed.

“We need to leave,” Hyrule’s voice came out hoarse. “We’re in danger. We need to get out of here.”

Twilight frowned and patted Hyrule’s arm. “It’s okay. It was just a dream, nothing’s gonna—”

“N-no, no it wasn’t just—just a dream.” Hyrule slid out of the bed. How much time did they have? It could be hours, a day or two at most. It could be any second now.

“Hey—hey, wait!” Twilight ran after him as Hyrule woke up more fully and started shoveling all of his belongings back into his pack.

“I can see things,” Hyrule explained, rolling and shuffling a few things haphazardly to get them to fit. “In my dreams. Things that haven’t happened yet, or places I need to go, or…it’s why I came here. The real reason. I recognized your house from one of my dreams.”

“What’s goin’ on in here?” Malon yawned from the hall and struck up a match to light a lantern. “What’s the matter, Hyrule, is somethin’ wrong?”

“He says he had a bad dream,” Twilight tried to explain, “but, Hyrule, I don’t understand what you’re trying to say. You said you came here cause you saw our house in a dream?” 

They didn’t have time for this. “Pack what you can, we need to get out of here. All of us.” Hyrule saw a canvas bag in the corner and shoved it into Twilight’s arms. “I saw danger coming in my dream, and it might be here any minute. They’ve never been wrong. Something terrible is coming.”

“What, just up and leave?” Twilight fumbled not to drop the bag. His left hand came up to hold it and Hyrule strained his mind to remember…in the dream, something was there, something invisible to the eye but searing with powerful light, a familiar shape just there for the blink of an eye…

Hyrule stilled. “Twilight. That’s not your real name, is it?”

Twilight and Malon both went rigid. Malon inched closer, guarded wariness overtaking her concern.

Hyrule threw caution into the wind. If he was right, now was the best time he was going to get. “Hyrule isn’t my real name either. I saw your hand in my dream. You had the Triforce of Courage there.” He fought down panic at the way their eyes widened, the horror growing there aimed at him. “I have it too. Your name is Link, isn’t it?”

A loud pounding startled all three of them, like thunder but hollower. More solid. Someone was at the door.

“Don’t answer!” Hyrule scared the other two a second time by grabbing their sleeves, keeping them in place. “I saw it in my dream. It’s the Imperial Army, we need to _get out of here, now.”_

Twilight swore. “Okay. Okay. Mom?”

“Yeah,” Malon threw Hyrule a glance, harried but apologetic, “I believe you. I don’t think you could’a just guessed about Twi, and I’m not fixin’ to wait around and see if you’re wrong about the rest. Lemme get some supplies and we’ll sneak out the window through my room. Twi,” she directed briskly, “food, please.”

He nodded and dashed to the cabinets, scooping up food by the handful as quietly as he could to shovel into the canvas bag. Malon darted back somewhere down the hall, the light of her lantern slipping around the corner with her and leaving the other two in the dim light of the kitchen-fire embers.

“Open up!” Someone shouted on the other side of the door. “We have business on orders of His Majesty with the residents of this household!”

Twilight sucked in a breath and fumbled a glass jar of preserves. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice rough with fear, “that’ll have to be enough. Let’s go.”

He put a hand on Hyrule’s back and urged him along, bolting through the little study where Malon had been reviewing the ranch’s profits only a few hours before. Where earlier it had been warm and cozy with the glow of a little hearth, now raindrops on the window threw ghostly patterns in the dark. Hyrule caught silhouettes moving out of the corner of his eye and voices calling outside. He ran faster.

“Here,” Malon hissed. She dragged open the window frame with as much stealth as time allowed and put out a hand to push Hyrule through. He barely had time to tug the hood of his cloak up before he was drenched again and crouched under the windowsill. When Malon didn’t immediately follow, he held his breath and risked looking up again to check inside.

“Twi,” she whispered, “what are you doing?!”

Hyrule peered in to see Twilight crouched on the floor, dragging something out from under Malon’s bed. “Getting prepared,” he grunted, heaving to pull a long, polished wooden chest with a thick layer of dust visible on it even in the dim light. He threw open the lid and pulled out two sheathed swords, leaving their protective wrappings on the floor. Wordlessly, he slung one over his own back and held the other out to his mother.

Malon’s breath caught when she saw them. She shook herself, eyes shining in a way that made her sniff roughly. Then she put on the sword. “Good idea.”

Hyrule heard clanking footsteps and his heart stopped. “Come on, come on, they’re coming!” He held out a hand to help Malon through the window faster, then both pulled Twilight. As soon as he cleared the sill, they were all off pounding through the storm.

“We should head into Ordon,” Twilight shouted over the wind. “We can lose ‘em there, and someone’ll hide us if they need to.”

“No,” Malon shook her head. “We can’t put ‘em in danger like that. You know how the Imperials are, they won’t take no for an answer. And they’ll come back if they think anyone’s been hiding us. No, we need to leave.” She caught his sleeve. “We need to leave, altogether. We can’t come back here ‘till we know it’s safe.”

They reached a ride near the edge of the ranch’s clearing and squeezed through a gap between two pillars of rock. Twilight paused before they went and gazed back. He drank in one last look at their home, eyes moving like he was memorizing the image of it and committing it to heart. Malon took his hand.

“We’ll come back for it,” she vowed. “It’s our home. We’ll fight for it if we have to.”

Finally, Twilight turned. “We can lose ‘em in the forest. If we have any luck, maybe there’s somethin’ left in there with a mind to help us.”

Malon smiled, grim and thin. “I’ll take those odds. Let’s see if the name ‘Lost Woods’ still means anything. Come on, darlin’,” she said to Hyrule, “stick close by, I don’t want you to—”

“There! They’re making a run for it, over the ridge!” A voice cut through the driving rain.

Malon swore viciously. _“My left arm-n-leg for a bow._ If I’d just grabbed one before we left. Just get over the bridge, there’s a bend in the road and we can lose ‘em.”

The woman who had spotted them was gaining ground. A flash from lightning illuminated a sword and a grizzled figure drawing her tall shield, the inverted eye painted across its front. Behind her, three more soldiers spilled through the cleft in the rock.

“It’s gonna be a fight,” Twilight warned.

“Not if we _hurry,”_ Malon insisted, pushing the other two on. A packed footpath turned muddy under their feet, brown puddles throwing up cold splatters onto their legs. They rounded a bend and began to sprint toward a rocky shelf that opened to a ravine with a rope bridge creaking over it.

One of the following soldiers sounded a horn. Shouts answered. Guilt froze in Hyrule’s veins. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! They might have followed me here, or I might have drawn them somehow, if I did anything to bring this to your home—”

“You didn’t,” Malon said with enough certainty that Hyrule had to listen. “Or if you did, it wasn’t anything new, nothing that wouldn’t be coming anyway. It ain’t a secret that our family’s no friends to the Empire, and it was bound to come to a head.”

The first soldier was getting close enough for them to make out the nicks in her shield and the way her eyes narrowed.

“Behind you!” Hyrule yelped just in time for Twilight to spin and meet the woman’s blade. The image from Hyrule’s dream seared before his waking eyes. He saw it, then, though no one else could—how Twilight’s jaw gritted, shoulders set. How his heels dug into the mud even as his chest heaved with terror stealing his breath.

He saw the Triforce of Courage blazing in the moment Twilight turned to defend his home and his family down to his dying breath, however fast it may come.

Hyrule drew his sword to join him. He dragged his blade over the first soldier’s calf as he went, dodged the shield-edge aimed at his neck without missing a step, and flew back down the path to meet the other three soldiers following. He heard three impacts of metal on metal sound in quick succession behind him before he fell upon the soldiers with everything he had.

It was a terrifying battle. Every second felt a hair’s breadth away from his last as he slid under one blade only to twist around the heads of two spears, pivoting on one foot to dodge the corner of a shield. He hooked his foot around one soldier’s ankle to knock him to the ground and kicked at his head. The man went down and stayed down, limp in the soupy ditch mud.

While Hyrule was distracted, though, his airway was cut off by a hand on his hood. Someone dragged him off of his feet by the neck of his cloak. A foot collided with his hand. His sword went flying. He was too focused on breathing to care, his fingers clawing at his neck to try to free it.

His head spun, lungs begging for oxygen. He gasped out dryly without any relief. He fumbled with his belt, vision blurring. His fingertips met the hardened leather wrappings of his dagger handle and he swung it up in a desperate, shaky swipe.

It sliced clean through his cloak and over the fingers holding him up, and he fell to the ground coughing. Sweet air rushed into his lungs. He put all the strength he had left into rolling away. A spear punched into the mud inches from his neck and another one grazed his forehead.

Hot blood mixed with the rain running down Hyrule’s face as he heaved himself to his feet. He brought his dagger up at the ready and tried to look for his sword, backing as close as he could get to the rope bridge.

“Impudent _brat,”_ one soldier bit out, clutching his bleeding hand. “I’ll kill you for that.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try.” The mocking call was the only warning the man got before Malon descended on him in a blaze of fiery hair and fury. She cut a grim, vengeful figure facing off against the dark mass of reinforcements pouring over the ridge.

“Go, get ahead,” Malon shoved Hyrule out onto the bridge. “I’ll follow once these guys are dealt with.”

“But—” Hyrule protested, his gut twisting. A bitter taste sat heavy in his mouth, a sense that this moment was one both crucial and dire.

Malon threw her weight into kicking back her attacker and spared a valuable moment to lace her fingers through Hyrule’s. Tears pricked the back of his eyes at the sheer _kindness_ of this woman who had reassurance to spare for an unlucky stranger off the road. “Go on. It’s gonna be alright. Twi?” She nodded to her son, who stood at Hyrule’s back.

“Meet us on the other side,” Twilight pleaded. “You have to come with us.” Malon’s hand pulled back from Hyrule’s— _fingers slipped from a hand_ —to grasp her son’s with white knuckles.

Whatever Malon was going to say next was cut off by her attacker returning, blade arching over his head to clash against her own. _“Go!”_ She managed to knock his sword off course only seconds before it could cut the ropes of the bridge.

Twilight seemed to remember their situation and leapt into action. He dragged Hyrule after him, their feet pounding a frantic rhythm against the wooden planks and making the bridge sway ominously with their speed. His lungs burned by the time they stumbled onto solid rock again and he turned even as he heaved for air to search—

Only to see the regret and fierce resolution in Malon’s eyes, the love and the clear apology, as she brought her sword down and severed the rope bridge.

 _“MOM!”_ Twilight howled. He spun, searching for a tree, some kind of outcropping, any way to get across. But the ravine between them was wide and deep, stretching in a misty gash to distant ends without breaking. “Mom! No, we’ll get back to you, just hang on—”

The soldiers overwhelmed her, Twilight pacing and Hyrule petrified with dread as they could do nothing but watch. Her sword was twisted out of her hand and cast aside. They began to drag her away.

“Go!” She shouted, echoing across the chasm. “You have to get out of here! We’ll find each other again, I promise!” She elbowed a soldier’s nose for one last moment to meet Twilight’s eyes. “You have to find the others. Finish what your dad started. We’ve waited long enough.”

 _“Mama.”_ Twilight’s pacing stopped. His voice broke, painfully quiet.

She smiled. “I love you. I’ll see you soon.”

Then she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Sky and Sun go for an eventful flight. Hyrule learns more about his new traveling companion. Sky meets a spirit.
> 
> And Chapter 1 is up! This fic has been my quarantine coping mechanism for the summer, and I actually have a good bit written! i have kind of a bad habit of starting longfics i don't get very far in, so i wanted to like. wait until i felt like this one was going somewhere. And it is! So, here you go! 
> 
> pic for this chapter was posted on the discord but I don't really know how to embed so rip
> 
> I'd also like to give special thanks to turtleduckcrossing for encouraging me to post my work. Your support has really helped me get up the courage to publicly post!
> 
> edit 12/7/2020: fixed a typo


	2. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sky and Sun go for an eventful flight. Hyrule learns more about his new traveling companion. Sky meets a spirit.
> 
> A note: Sun is the nickname for Skyward Sword's Zelda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings and notes at the end

Sky couldn’t help but keep thinking back to the dream he’d had last night. It weighed on his mind.

“So serious. What’s that face for?” A familiar voice distracted him with a weird jump in his heart and a fluttery, flustered feeling that overcame him without warning. Sun leaned out over the top of the low stone wall Sky had his back against, her long blonde hair swaying in a way that was for some reason utterly distracting.

“Um. Just. Thinking.” He squeaked.

She choked back a laugh and braced her arms so she could bend over almost upside-down. “Well,” she said, a teasing grin tugging at the corner of her mouth, “don’t hurt yourself.”

“Ha, ha.” Sky rolled his eyes as he turned to face her. He couldn’t help but grin back, though. Her feet had to be wedged somewhere in between the stones for her to be able to reach the top of the wall like that and lean over, and it was, to be frank, adorable. “What are you… _up to_ …this morning?”

He ducked his head, bashful, when her eyes widened at the pun and her mouth rounded into a comical ‘o.’ She barked a delighted laugh. “Looking for _you,_ sleepyhead. Or did you forget we were gonna go flying this morning?”

His face fell. “Crap.”

She gave his head a light swat. “You keep anything in there besides daydreams, or is it just empty? You must get awfully tired of all the whistling that goes between your ears when it gets windy.”

Sky pushed himself to his feet. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I don’t ever even hear the whistling, ‘cause it gets drowned out by you talking all the time.”

“Sky, I’m gonna push you off this island!” She swung her legs over the top of the wall. “I’ll do it, I know your loftwing will catch you!”

A noise escaped Sky somewhere between a snicker and a yelp. He decided it was high time he started running.

Sun thundered after him at a truly frightening speed. When she got too close, he veered off into the bazaar and lost her in the sun-soaked colors of the tents and the tangy scent of brewing potions. He vaulted a couple of counters, nearly toppling some supply crates and cackling when Sun had to stop to steady them. Angry scolding from the shopkeepers chased him out the other door and into the open square.

Seeing Sun still hot on his heels, Sky poured another burst of energy into making for the edge of the island. He turned around and tripped on his own two feet when he found himself face-to-face with Groose. The boy had planted his stocky weight in Sky’s path with his arms crossed under a sneer.

“And what do you think you’re—”

“Oop, can’t talk, little busy, maybe next time!” Sky thought he felt his spirit leave his body for a second when Groose lunged for him, but he twisted out of the way just in time. The other boy’s fingers just barely grazed the collar of his shirt, but by that point Sky was sinking his feet into the grass at Skyloft’s edge.

“I’m coming for you, Sky!” Sun was on the flagstones of the square now.

He made eye contact and gave her a big, smug grin. “Can’t push me off if I push myself off first.”

He made a big show out of holding out his hand and giving himself a sturdy shove in the chest. His weight tipped backward, lazily clearing the edge of the land and tumbling into the open air.

 _“SKY!”_ Sun bellowed, incensed. Sky cackled.

He flipped over to re-orient himself in the air and whistled for his loftwing. With a resounding screech, Red swooped beneath him and bore Sky up with a flap of his wings. Sky scratched the feathers around his neck, prompting a happy trill and making them ruffle in pleasure. “Hey, boy! _Hey!_ Are you happy to see me? Are you happy to—”

He spluttered when something heavy cuffed the back of his head. He looked up to find the talon of Sun’s blue loftwing and the rider in question utterly unrepentant. “Oops,” she said flatly.

“Are we even now?” Sky rubbed the back of his head. “You hit me. Twice.”

 _“I_ only hit you once,” Sun argued primly. “But, yes. I guess we’re even now.”

Their loftwings steadied themselves side by side in the sweet, cool breeze. Sky’s angled his wings just over Sun’s, skating over the draft of wind they rode so that they could keep pace comfortably. The light of morning was burning brighter, heading toward noon, and it cast sharp blue shadows underneath them that sailed across the clouds below, fluttering up and down as the depth changed. Their loftwings’ feathers shimmered, layering with a hundred facets like gemstones that cast back reflections on their riders’ faces. The way the dark blue danced in the lighter color of Sun’s eyes was nothing short of mesmerizing. Sky found himself helpless to look away.

“…so,” Sun said. The barest hint of pink dusted across her cheeks. “You said you were thinking about something this morning. Was it something serious?” 

“Mmm,” Sky hummed absently in response.

“Do…um…” the pink tinge grew. She cleared her throat. “Do you…want to talk about it?”

“Talk about…oh!” He processed what she was saying and snapped out of it. Heat rushed to his face. “Yeah. Yeah. I had a weird dream last night. It just keeps coming back up in my mind for some reason.”

“Really?” She grew serious. “What kind of dream?”

Sky straightened a few loose feathers on Red’s back, thinking. “I dreamed that I woke up in my room in the middle of the night. I thought I heard someone talking, but I couldn’t figure out what it was they were trying to say. I think it was a girl. I think…it seemed like someone was in the hall. There was some kind of light. But when I tried to get up and look, no one was there.”

He frowned. Right as he had awoken, he could swear he heard part of the message more clearly. It was something about… “She said ‘the hour is at hand.’ And she tried to tell me something I needed to do, like, ‘You must fr…something. I woke up before the end.’”

“Free me,” Sun whispered. “Break my master’s chains.”

Sky’s head whipped around. “What?”

Her eyes were haunted. “I think I’m having the same dream.”

Sky’s brows drew together. The expression on Sun’s face worried him. “Why? How is that possible? Does it… mean something?”

“I’m not sure,” she hedged. “I don’t know why you’re having it. As for me…” She looked away. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

Before Sky could ask more, a searing light knocked them both hurtling across the sky.

“What is that?!” Sun braced an arm against the force of it.

Before them, a wild, swirling tower of wind had erupted. It filled Sky’s vision, looming impossibly huge and far too close to avoid. Red bucked and shrieked, pulling up short with a flap of his wings. Sky had to wrap both arms around the loftwing’s neck and cling to keep his seat. Feathers whipped across his eyes and into his mouth, dust buffeting his hair.

He could barely make out Sun yelling “What’s going on?”

Terror clenched cold around Sky’s heart when he heard her scream and caught sight of her body plunging through the air.

He urged Red into a dive, panic flashing through his veins. She reached out with one hand toward him and he flattened himself to his bird’s back, willing gravity to work faster, _just a little faster._

Then sky above and clouds below spun out around him. His loftwing’s back dropped away.

Sky lost consciousness.

* * *

“It’s getting dark.” Hyrule finally got up the nerve to break the silence. “We should probably set up camp soon.”

Hyrule watched Twilight’s back warily in front of him.

The hero didn’t turn, but he did say, “Not here.” It was the first sound he’d made in hours. “We shouldn’t sleep here. We might not ever wake up.”

Hyrule jogged forward so he could look at Twilight. _“What?”_

“It’s called the Lost Woods for a reason. This mist,” he pointed to the milky, greenish fog dancing across their path, “ain’t natural. Or, at least, not normal. We shouldn’t linger any longer than necessary.”

Twilight went back to scouting ahead. Hyrule turned a newly anxious eye on the mist shrouding the treetops and flowing in their path before and behind. It had grown from the moment their road crossed through an old, overgrown gate and into a thicker, darker section of the forest. Now that Hyrule was paying attention, if he strained his ears, he thought he might be able to hear a distant, hollow rattling, like wooden chimes. Or bones.

He shuddered and edged closer to Twilight.

At length, a creeping suspicion gnawed at the back of his mind. Once they entered the mist, their path had split. It flowed out through a net of gnarled old trees and eventually stuttered, dissolving into thick patches of weeds and rocky outcroppings. By this point, they seemed to have left the path completely and were making their way along the edge of a thicket of trees wreathed in thorns.

It might have been a trick of the light, but beneath the vines Hyrule could swear the holes and knots in the trees looked like twisted faces.

“Are we still…on a road?” He finally had to ask. Twilight’s flickering torch reflected deep in the mist and almost seemed to gain a life of its own, multiplying into pinpoints of dancing light. “We’re not lost…right?”

Twilight stopped. A long, exhausted sigh drained the life from him, and when he turned, the wretched look on his face answered for him. “I don’t know where we are. I don’t know what I’m doing. I—Mom was supposed to—”

As they stood still, a little breeze skirted the ground around their ankles. It pulled wisps of fog it its wake, drawing the edges in imperceptibly closer.

Twilight took a moment to gather himself again enough to speak. “I haven’t ever had to get through here on my own before. I think my mom learned how to do it a long time ago, back when I was a kid, an’ I don’t remember it ever feeling like this back…um…” he paused. Then he settled on saying, “The forest wasn’t always like this, I think. Back when times were better, or depending…depending on if you were with the right person, maybe. It’s probably a defense against intruders.”

The fog curled lightly over Hyrule’s toes. After a long moment, he could swear they started to go cold and tingly. Startled, he picked his feet up and shook them out until they felt normal again.

“We can’t stay here; we need to keep moving.” He nudged Twilight’s back. “I wish we could tell the forest we’re _not_ intruders. We just wanna get through to the other side. We’re not here to cause any trouble.”

They started walking again. The mist retreated, but not as far away as it had been.

“Tell the forest…” Twilight murmured. He looked pensive. “I might have one idea.”

Hesitant and self-conscious at first, he whistled a quiet tune. The effect of such a bright, happy song against their bleak surroundings was a little eerie. It echoed through the wood, small and thin in the muffled silence.

A flute joined in. Twilight stopped in his tracks and Hyrule slammed into his back.

The flute stopped. Twilight paused, sharing a look with Hyrule. They both craned their necks to look for some kind of source and Twilight started whistling again. The flute joined in with a trill, harmonizing with Twilight’s song. They kept it going, taking turns with the melody before ending in harmony once more.

When the song ended, someone giggled right next to Hyrule’s shoulder.

“Din’s _fire—!”_ Hyrule scampered to hide behind Twilight. He could feel how tense Twilight was, but that didn’t stop the man from waving.

“Hello?” He tried. “I can’t see you. Where are you?”

The giggle came again, this time a little further out. If Hyrule looked just right, he thought he might be able to make out a slight tunnel in the mist. It seemed to head the same direction.

The flute played Twilight’s song again, muted in the distance.

Hyrule hazarded a guess. “I think it wants us to follow.”

Twilight grimaced. “Ooooooh we better not end up stalfos or something. I better not be a poe by the end of this.” He followed.

“Don’t say that.” Hyrule abandoned all pride to clutch at Twilight’s sleeve. “Don’t put that in my head, now _I’m_ thinking about it.”

The giggle they got in response was _not_ reassuring. The song played faster.

Twilight swore. He and Hyrule both broke into a run, following the retreating song. Hyrule wondered whether he was hearing things, imagining that there were more flute players in the mist. All pulled ahead in the same direction and the two ran faster, panting for breath, tingling cold creeping up from their feet and turning them numb.

Just when Hyrule’s head was starting to swim and he was beginning to forget just where it was that he was going, they broke through a wall of fog and tumbled into a sunlit clearing.

“Sweet-shining-golden- _Goddesses,”_ Twilight wheezed. He collapsed into bright, dappled underbrush with his arms and legs splayed. “That was awful. Are we out?”

Hyrule peered around. The wall of mist remained behind them—a little too close for comfort—and a thicket of scattered trees stretched before them bathed in green and gold dappled light. Long grasses swayed in a light breeze, ruffling with the shadows of little forest creatures burrowing within. The whole clearing smelled of green things growing and rich soil, sweet with flowers and sap. It was also definitively surrounded by spooky magic forest.

“We’re not out,” Hyrule groaned. “I think we’re safe in here, though.”

 _“Ya-ha-ha!”_ A small voice cried by Hyrule’s elbow.

He snatched up the elbow in question, holding it close as he peered down at the squat figure there with extreme distrust. It blinked up at him innocently through a lopsided leaf mask. “…hello?” it didn’t appear to be armed or have any kind of claws or teeth.

Twilight sat up with his eyes blown wide in wonder. “Kokiri? Or…um. A korok, I mean?"

“Yes! _Ya-ha!”_ The creature clapped its rootlike arms together as if clapping its hands. “You can see me? You too?” It asked Hyrule. Hyrule nodded mutely. It hopped up and down.

“Yeah,” Twilight grinned. “Is this your clearing? Are there lots of koroks living here? I thought they were all gone!”

The korok made a noise approximating a raspberry. “No, silly. This is our home! Where else would we be?” It must have been more of a rhetorical question, because the korok skipped away before it was done speaking. The little voice hummed a song—the same one Twilight had whistled earlier.

Twilight pulled a leg up, holding it close as he watched the korok go. Then, softly, he began to hum along.

The effect was instantaneous. _“LINK!”_ The korok twirled and made a running leap at Twilight, climbing up into his hair.

“Link! Link!” Koroks popped out of the grass and leapt down from tree branches, crawling from under rocks and climbing out of tree hollows. “Link! It’s Link!” Twilight was quickly snowed under a mountain of koroks all gleefully calling his name.

“Link,” chirped the korok on Twilight’s head, “where have you been? What took you so long to come home? We missed you!”

At their words, the delight on Twilight’s face soured, turning to an expression like he’d suddenly swallowed a bitter potion. “Oh. I. I’m sorry. I think I’m. I’m probably not…who you think I am.”

Gently, he took the korok from his head and put it down on its own two feet. It stared up at him with wide, uncomprehending mask eyes. “You’re Link, aren’t you? Link’s the only one that knows our song.”

“No, not…” All the koroks were staring now. “Not the only one.” Twilight swallowed and avoided Hyrule’s eyes, making him abruptly realize that he was intruding on something that was probably pretty personal.

“Do you remember,” Twilight asked the koroks, “a long time ago, about eleven or twelve years, maybe, when Link came to visit and he brought some friends?”

“I do!” The korok in front of him waved. A few others chimed in. “We met a very pretty lady who was nice, even though she was a grownup from outside, and Link brought Baby Link!”

“Yeah.” Pain and nostalgia mixed equally in Twilight’s eyes. “That’s me. I grew up, but Link taught me your song.”

“Baby Link?” The korok tilted its head. “Baby Link!” It wound up and took a second running leap to tackle him with renewed gusto.

“Baby Link!” The others chorused. “Baby Link, Baby Link, Baby Link—”

“And guess what?” The mischievous tone Twilight took on was the only warning Hyrule got before he told them, “My friend here? He’s Link too!”

 _“NEW LINK!”_ Hyrule yelped and buckled under the weight of a swarm of tiny forest creatures. Though Twilight laughed, his eyes kept their shadow. Afterward, his thoughts seemed distant.

* * *

That night, they made their camp in the koroks’ clearing. For a while, Hyrule was worried about whether magical forest creatures needed any sleep or understood that _he_ would, but the koroks seemed plenty content to pile up like puppies in every available nook and cranny.

“I guess I can understand the creepy forest mist now,” Hyrule admitted. He shifted, displacing one little creature that had been playing with his hair but now was more nodding off to sleep than anything else. “Still seems kinda harsh, but I’m glad that the good things of the forest like these little guys are safe.”

“Me too.” Twilight was absorbed in staring up at the boughs that were tangled high above, blue and rustling softly in the night wind.

It was long after Hyrule had lain awake, uneasy about the lurking mist and still not quite able to sleep, that whispering started up behind his head.

“Baby Link,” the sleepiness of the voice made it sound all the more childlike. “Why didn’t you bring Link? Can you tell him to come soon?”

The long silence that followed made dread pool in Hyrule’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight whispered. “I can’t. Link, he…can’t come back. He’s gone.”

Oh. Hyrule hugged himself, silent.

The korok sniffed. To hear the sorrow in the tiny voice felt wrong; it was a darkness that crept against the firefly-lit sanctum, tainting its innocent safety. Grief didn’t suit the world of the koroks. But even here, it seemed, they couldn’t escape it. “…he can’t come back? Never ever? What if we miss him?”

Twilight’s voice grew thick with emotion. “I miss him too. But he can’t come back. He died.”

The korok gave a tiny, shuddering sob. “Oh, no.” There was a rustle of movement from Twilight and its voice was muffled against his chest.

Hyrule pressed his face against his blanket. He lay there, hurting for his traveling companion and for all the little koroks whose friend was never coming home.

* * *

_The time has come for you to awaken._

_You’re vital to a mission of great importance._

Sky lay in his bed that night and stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. The words he’d heard while he was unconscious, the dream-vision he’d had, all of it swirled in his mind and kept his thoughts racing. Sun was falling, and Sky falling with her. She’d dropped into a sea of spears and ragged banners with a man there waiting for her and holding a jagged, black sword crusted with blood. The woman whose voice he’d heard had been there calling out to Sky too. She was wrapped in a chain that glowed with a sinister red light and snaked back to somewhere in the shadows he couldn’t see.

He’d awoken to find himself brought back to Skyloft by his loftwing and Sun gone.

All day, the island had been arguing in circles without any idea what to do. The cloud barrier Hylia gave them as a gift of protection against the surface as it descended into war and chaos now sealed them off from leaving their home. It shouldn’t have been possible for _anyone_ to get through. Though nobody said it outright, the fact that some aggressor had magic powerful enough to break the barrier of the goddess boded ill for the fortunes of the world.

Sky had even tried speaking to Sun’s father in private. He confided everything about the dreams, the vision he’d had, how Sun had told him she’d seen something similar. Her father seemed surprised to hear it. Sun had told him about the first handful of her strange dreams, but for some reason or another had kept the rest to herself.

Her father agreed that it was likely Sky was meant to play some part in all this. Neither of them could say what, exactly. But a coming storm loomed close on the horizon.

And now, all Sky could do was lay in his bed and stare at the ceiling uselessly. What was he missing? Was there some clue in the messages about what he was meant to do? Should he be out on his loftwing now looking for some overlooked pass through the barrier?

He closed his eyes and worried about Sun. He wondered if she had somewhere safe to sleep that night. If she was even still…

_…nk…_

Sky sat up.

The chime sounded again outside his door.

_Link._

He leapt to his feet and threw the door open. This time, the hallway wasn’t empty.

The woman whose voice he kept hearing in his dreams floated there, ethereal and insubstantial as a spirit. Whirls of gentle blue and purple light danced on the walls and floor as she watched him with silent serenity.

“Who are you?” Sky whispered. “Are you still in chains? I want to help. I want to find Sun. Do you know her, too?”

The spirit flitted down the hall and Sky followed.

\---

She led him out through the sleeping knights’ academy and into the soft night. They crept along hidden side paths of the island, under vines and across narrow bridges to the statue of the Goddess. All the while, Sky felt a tug behind his breastbone drawing him onward, after the spirit. Something about it felt comforting and wild all at once, wonderfully foreign even as he felt like a piece was slotting into place that he’d been missing. It felt like a call to adventure singing in his blood.

Beneath the statue of the Goddess, he laid eyes on the glowing, gray-blue sword and knew that it was his.

“What…?” He breathed.

From the spiraled hilt of the sword, a spiraling figure emerged and bowed before him. The spirit rose up and spoke.

“One of those chosen by my creator. We have been waiting for you. You will play a role in a great destiny.”

“Is that…” Sky approached her. “…why Sun and I have been having the dreams? Were we chosen for something?”

The spirit nodded. “Indeed.” She straightened her posture and formally recited, “According to your social customs, I should provide you with my personal designation. Fi is the name I was given.”

Was he…supposed to introduce himself back? “Nice to meet you, Fi. I’m Sky. Maybe you already knew that.” He scratched his neck awkwardly.

Her expression didn’t change. “I know that is the name that you use. I also know your true name; it is the reason I am here. I was created for a single purpose, long before the recorded memory of your people. I must aid you and your companions in fulfilling the great destiny that is your burden to carry however I can.”

There was a pause. Though her face still remained expressionless, her spectral voice was tinged with a note of regret. “I apologize. I am afraid that in this aspect of my purpose, I will be forced to come up short. As you have observed, I am held captive. My power grows weak.”

Her form flickered and her voice skipped out. The shadow of phantom chains crept around her. “Even now, our time is limited. I am afraid I must entreat you to take on one more burden to your quest. You must free me, and you must break my master’s chains. For he and I have long been snared in this trap, and we grow weary.”

Her image guttered like a dying flame and Sky cried out. “Wait! Where are you? Who’s your master? Can you tell me how to get to Sun?”

She swept aside to gesture to the sword sheathed in a pedestal behind her. “Come, Link. Our time together is up. My creator’s power is stretched thin, but the desperate hour of her people has moved her to create this Goddess Sword anew. You must take it up. As one the one chosen by my creator to wield it, it is your destiny.”

She must have seen the uncertainty on his face, because she said, “The one you seek, the honorable Zelda, is alive. She is one of those fated to be a part of the same great mission; if you take up this sword, my calculations show a high likelihood that the two of you will meet again.”

Sky rushed forward, spurred on by Fi’s fading presence, and drew the sword. He lifted it upward and it filled with warm, blinding light like looking into the sun.

Fi disappeared, then reappeared one final time. In the shadows of the sword’s light, her flat mouth almost seemed to curl up a fraction on one side. “Recognition complete, Young Master. May your circumstances be advantageous and your path optimally efficient.”

There was a pause. For the barest moment, something in the serenity behind her eyes cracked. “Please,” she said, softer, “don’t delay.”

She vanished for good and left Sky alone.

“Sky!” Or maybe not. Headmaster Gaepora stood in the doorway and stared at Sky holding the sword of the Goddess. “I’ve had my suspicions,” he admitted, “but until now I wasn’t sure. Yet…here we are. Standing in the Chamber of the Sword, the very place where it was foretold the youth of legend wound one day appear. The hero…of…the sky.”

The significance of the name was clear to both of them. By some connection of destiny, it was the same as the nickname Sky happened to help choose years and years ago, when he and Sun were children.

Gaepora barked a dry laugh. “I suppose I should have guessed it sooner. When a new Goddess Sword appeared, mysteriously re-forged to what it was before it was taken down to the surface all those years ago and remade…I knew something must be coming. I just didn’t know what.”

He clapped Sky’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s head back up.” As the open moonlight fell across Gaepora’s face, his huge brow drew low and pensive, casting his eyes in shadow. “This will be no easy task. The world below is a forsaken place, and to reach it you must leave the protection of the Goddess’s barrier. Since it was made, no one has ever done this. I don’t even know if a path still exists—”

He spluttered. They were both blinded by a burst of green light that washed across the island, streaking like a comet over the edge and down into the clouds below. Where it landed in the distance, they could barely make out a pool of light that spread outward and leaked shimmering droplets up into the sky, blazing with green fire.

“Well.” Gaepora said succinctly. “Er.” He coughed. “Perhaps there is something to the saying that old men shouldn’t talk so much.”

Sky couldn’t help but be surprised into a laugh. Gaepora chuckled good-naturedly.

They stood at the edge of the island and looked over the night-smudged sea of clouds. A gentle wind fluttered the grass and flowers at Sky’s feet, twining through his hair, tugging at his tunic. With all the people asleep, it felt like Skyloft itself had snuck out into the predawn light to bid him goodbye.

The first rays of the sun were beginning to spill their pigments over the clouds’ soft edges. Dawn was fast approaching.

“What we’ve seen here today defies explanation,” Gaepora said. “But it’s only the start of your journey. Should you see it through, I don’t know what dangers you may have to face, Sky. Especially down there. But if you’ve decided to brave the unknown, please.” His voice was rough. “Find my daughter and bring her back to me.”

Sky took his hand. “I will.”

Gaepora looked down at Sky’s hand in his and covered it with the other one. “You do your people proud, Sky. I wish I could give you the uniform and armor that is your right. You certainly deserve it. But thanks to these dark times, you’ll have to go in secret and leave your true name and title behind you.”

He gave Sky one last smile, worried and fond in all the ways of a proud teacher. “Take care on your journey. You and Sun shall be in my prayers. May the Goddess watch over and guide you both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for spooky Lost Woods and implied character death. On that subject I'd like to uh,,, direct my readers to the tags. no reason in particular just uh worth a look if you get what im saying
> 
> Now's probably a good time to bring up the Goddess vs. 3 goddesses situation. Since this world has all the games put together, I just kinda decided to have people believe in both at the same time (which happens sometimes with religions). What exactly people believe or practice can vary by region, but in general people think of them as pretty interchangeable.
> 
> (Some dialogue was taken from Skyward Sword for this chapter)
> 
> Up next: Four receives a promotion. Malon does some sneaking.


	3. Prisoners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four receives a promotion. Malon does some sneaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end
> 
> (edit 12/7/2020: fixed a typo)

_“The Poison-Bringer is coming!”_ Tiny hands clutched the rim of Four’s ear, tight with panic. _“He is angry!”_

 _“Okay. All right,”_ Four answered in Minish language, scooping the little Minish up from his shoulder to deposit her by the leg of his table. _“Thank you. Now, hurry!”_ She slipped into the narrow space between the table and the wall to disappear through the crack hidden there. _“Tell everyone to stay away until he’s gone and past the end of this street or farther. I’m starting to think he has some way to sense you, so be careful.”_

 _“Careful as mice,”_ she smiled. _“You too. Give him a good trick.”_

Four spared her a fleeting, panicked grin as he shoveled swords and other, more sensitive projects into the hollow scraped out behind his forge’s chimney. _“I’ll do my best. Now, go!”_

He slid a half-finished axe from the steady flame of his kiln—he’d learned it was worth the waste in fuel to have one at the ready—and put everything he had into looking like he’d been working on it all morning.

When figures blocked out the scant view of his window and heavy bootsteps fell across his floorboards, he pretended not to be able to hear over the sound of his hammer.

However, it grew impossible to ignore when a fistful of iron, spring-loaded traps were thrown down in a pile on top of his work. He scuttled backward to avoid getting his hand caught in one that triggered on impact and snapped its jaws shut.

“Oh,” he swallowed. He looked up, pretending to realize for the first time that someone was there, and bowed. “Good morning, General.”

“Answer me a question, little forge. It’s been weighing on my mind, and no matter how I turn it over and over, somehow…I just can’t find the explanation.”

A pale purple hand picked up one trap to examine it, robes flowing with the motion as Vaati’s cold red eyes gleamed under his deep hood with reigned temper. “I don’t claim to know all the intricacies of metalwork, so please, explain. How is it that one smith can have a fair amount of skill with weapon-making—craftsmanship, even! Enough to catch the eye of His Eminence, the Emperor.”

Four’s blood ran cold. Vaati’s eyes narrowed. “And I’ll return to that point momentarily,” he promised. “But that same smith can craft such poor, shoddy traps?”

“I…don’t know, sir.” Four said carefully. He licked his lips. “I guess I just don’t have a mind for it.”

He could feel Vaati’s eyes boring into him. He did his best to project ignorance.

Vaati clicked his tongue. “Unfortunate. You see, I’m sure you realize this project is of some…personal importance to me.” He gritted his sharp teeth, clenching a fist around the trap he held. “It makes my skin crawl to know that the castle and capitol are still teeming with dirty,” he slammed the trap down, making Four jolt, “ _treacherous_ little spies. To think what secrets the vermin might be pried to give to our enemies. I can’t stand it.”

“Especially,” Four’s heart jumped into his mouth as Vaati grabbed a fistful of the front of his tunic, “when I can _smell them in our own forges.”_

“Minish? Here?” Four squeaked. His mind blanked with panic. As best he could with his toes barely touching the ground, he tried to hold very, very still. “Are they invisible? I—I may have seen a mouse, once, but—”

His head snapped to the side with the force of the backhand Vaati cracked across his face. “Stay silent if you like but do not mock me by lying.”

Four took his advice and stayed silent. Stinging pain radiated across his face, and he kept his eyes firmly on the floorboards, praying that he wasn’t about to die.

“Perhaps,” Vaati suggested, “you’d learn a better mind for trapmaking if I found your old blacksmith master, from before the two of you were asked to join the service of His Eminence. I’m sure he could teach you.”

Four forgot to avoid eye contact at that and barely kept the pleading out of his voice when he stuttered, “N-no, that won’t—that won’t be necessary! I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“See that you do.” Vaati released him and his weak knees gave out, leaving him to fall to the floor. “Luckily for you, His Eminence has seen fit to give you time. Your skill has caught his eye and he’s given you a promotion.”

The sharp-edged grin that Vaati gave Four made it clear just how well the General expected him to be able to cope with this ‘promotion.’ “Congratulations!” Vaati spread his hands wide. “You’ve been gifted the chance to try your hand at forging weapons for the Emperor’s Champion.”

Four’s mouth went dry. This was it. He wasn’t going to survive the first assignment.

“Gather up whatever you need. I’ll be escorting you to your new workstation.”

“Now?” Four snapped out of his terror. “Everyth—I mean—there’s. It’s more than I can carry. Sir,” he tacked on at the end, seeing Vaati’s face.

“That’s strange, because I don’t believe I heard anybody ask. Now, let’s go, I have important matters to attend to.”

Vaati turned in a whirl of purple and Four scrambled. He gathered up whatever he could carry of his grandfather’s tools—the ones passed to him in the panicked moment before they were separated—along with some of the projects he had for the Minish that were easier to hide. Thinking about carrying them right under Vaati’s nose made his breath come short, but he’d rather risk it than leave the projects behind. A bucket of ‘scraps’ stood next to the fire that he paused by, his heart sinking. They were all his secret projects that were too big to hide in plain sight and had to be buried under some scrap metal until it was safe to bring them out.

There was no way he’d be able to push his luck far enough to carry them right in front of Vaati’s face. And he couldn’t leave them here. They’d be discovered and, accidental favor of the Emperor or no, he’d be executed for treason.

He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch. Then he dumped it all in the fire, stoking the heat as high as he could.

“Are you finished?” Vaati snapped. “If you take much longer, you won’t be bringing _anything.”_

There was one thing Four couldn’t leave behind, not for the world, not even if it cost his life. He tried to think of a way to divert Vaati’s attention so that he could grab it without being noticed.

 _“We have a trick for you, Tall-Friend.”_ A little nose poked out from a crack in the wall. _“Let us repay you with this, even though it is little. Careful as mice, we promise.”_

 _“NO,”_ Four hissed, eyes wide, _“what are you—?”_

“Aha!” Vaati declared, “I have you now!” Four whirled around in panic, thinking he was caught, but the General was poised like a cat to pounce on a little white shape vanishing a few doors down the narrow, winding street. Just out of sight. Vaati’s escort guards, in the meantime, were watching their superior with badly disguised bafflement.

“Hylia,” Four said through his teeth, not sure if he meant it as an exclamation or a prayer. He took the opportunity he was given as quickly as he could. He wormed an arm back into the crevice behind the chimney and scooped out all the weapons he had stashed there. One or two he piled together, unable to part with them. For the rest, he ripped out another piece of his own heart and threw them in the fire with the scraps. He couldn’t take the chance that whoever came along next would accidentally find them.

The one sword dearest to him, he held close to his chest. The Four Sword he and his grandfather forged together, blessed by the Minish, enchanted in their fires. The four presences within him resonated with deep, abiding comfort at seeing it safe.

Grabbing a few average army swords to disguise his bundle, Four carefully wrapped the rest and bolted with his armload out into the street. “That’s all! I’m ready now!”

“Cursed _rats_ are gone.” Vaati bit out. He straightened his cloak. “I hope the Emperor’s Champion is so disappointed with your work that he eats you alive. Or throws you in your own fire.”

“Yes, sir.” Four responded obediently. He fell in step behind the General, weak with relief to have his little friends safe and his sword thrumming against his chest. Whatever else was to come, he’d face it.

* * *

Malon’s chances of escape were dwindling.

Not that she hadn’t given it her all—if she was going to be dragged to the capitol, by Hylia she would make them _drag_ her. Again and again, she’d given her captors the slip. Every time, they tracked her, and every time she came away more bruised and battered for it. But thanks to her they could never quite sleep soundly through the night anymore, and she took pride in that.

It had been many, many years since the last time she’d taken this road, but she knew they were getting close. The houses of the villages they passed drew inward, huddled together and walled off from the world. Their road crossed under the shadow of sharp, rugged guardhouse checkpoints where the chatter of travelers grew quiet under the emperor’s flapping banners.

If her memory served, they were taking a path that skirted the edges of Hyrule Field on its east side, heading northward. The sun rose every morning on their right-hand side and was beginning to glint over marshy wetlands. The tough, scraggly oak trees and ironwoods of home were giving way to wet, drooping cypresses that draped lichen overhead.

The green, muggy smell of swamp washed over her suddenly one morning and her heart was seized with nostalgia.

It _had_ been a long time since she’d taken this road. She hadn’t been here since a time when a knight and a princess could travel freely to show a wide-eyed farm girl the way to the castle, laughing and teasing with gray lichen tangled in their hair. She turned the memory over, old but bittersweet, and grieved.

Soon enough, they joined up with other prisoners as well.

Pushed into the back of a wagon, under the watchful eyes of their guards, Malon whispered with an elderly woman from Faron. The woman kindly shared her waxed, waterproof cloak to hold between them and ward off a steady deluge of rain, her two young grandchildren sandwiched in the middle.

From her, Malon learned that most of her fellow prisoners were unlucky landowners who couldn’t keep up with the Imperial tax. There were a handful of suspected thieves and bandits in the cart with them as well, along with one Zora with heavy scarring who the old woman felt reasonably sure was caught working as a scout for a band of rebels.

If he was, he certainly wasn’t saying anything about it. At the moment, he seemed dead set on appearing as though he didn’t understand the Hylian language.

On the night after they cleared the last of the swamp, though, when Malon was startled awake by a muted, metallic screech, his Hylian speech turned out to be perfect. “We’re almost to Castle Town,” the Zora whispered. “Probably by tomorrow. I can’t be here when they get to the castle. Do you want to come with me?”

His shackles had been twisted off, explaining the screeching noise. Up close, in the half-light of the fire’s embers, he looked painfully young. Younger than Malon’s own boy.

“Nah,” she said with a wry smile. “I’ll distract ‘em. If you did happen to be in with some rebels—which I never heard,” she reassured him, zipping her lips, “and I don’t know anything about—I’d say you better go on and get back to makin’ Ganon pay.”

“I can’t let you—” he started, alarmed, but Malon shushed him.

“You can and you better hurry if you wanna get out of here before I get started. ‘S been too long since I gave these folks some trouble.” She punctuated her warning by getting up and stretching as if to start making a run for it immediately. “Now go,” she waved him off with her hands, “shoo.”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He took her hands in his and slipped something cold between her palms. Then he disappeared into the dark.

Malon grinned down at the beautiful Zora-carved silver dagger in her hands and hid it in her boot.

Then she snagged a lantern and headed for the campfire at a full run so as to better dump an entire can’s worth of kerosene into it, trailing flames in her wake as she led one last chase. By the time they dragged her back, her arms had a few new shiny red burns, the first light of day was just creeping over the horizon, and the Zora boy was long, long gone.

\---

The Zora’s prediction turned out to be directly on the mark. Just past noon of the next day, their wagon was rattling across the cobblestones of the wide main road of Castle Town. The experience was surreal. The buildings were about the same, as far as Malon could tell, as the last time she had visited so long ago, but the town itself couldn’t be farther.

Against the bright, sunbathed memories in her mind of fluttering pennants in all colors and children racing between cartwheels, the thick soot hanging overhead only seemed darker, the frightened workers hurrying along only more defeated. The only people who walked with their heads held high were those decked in the gold-and-blood livery of Ganon, cold-eyed warlords who bore the inverted eye symbol of the Yiga. Streets’ worth of dirty pages and errand-boys packed shoulder to shoulder parted like water before them and closed silently in their wake.

The wagon of prisoners inched, jolting, through the crush, and Malon’s heart sank. There were too many people watching now to slip away again.

The castle, too, had changed. It loomed like the ruin of a mountain, its once white stone now stained with soot and ashes, giving it the appearance of a burnt, sharp-edged husk. The inverted eye flew high overhead and mechanical Guardians skittered its borders, their red eyes glaring out ever-watchful.

As Malon passed through the iron gates, her desperate resolve hardened. She would not die here, forgotten in Ganon’s deepest dungeons. This empire owed her a debt of blood and suffering, and by whatever means she had left she was going to wring out her payment.

By pure luck or the intervention of the goddesses themselves, her last-ditch opportunity arrived. The wagon of prisoners eased to a halt in the dry grass alongside the castle’s sloping path, near a pair of side doors at its base. The leader of their troop of guards barked a string of orders, sending the others off for a moment. Within the walls of the Emperor’s castle, they apparently saw no need to guard their prisoners so closely.

That was their mistake.

“Go,” the old woman whispered as she saw Malon crouch. “Goddesses grant you favor and bring you speed. I’m glad we met, if only for a moment.”

“I wish I could do more,” Malon said. “Your grandchildren—”

“Oh, don’t count me out yet.” A gleam came into the old woman’s eye. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve, don’t you worry. Now, _go,_ take your chance before it’s gone.”

Heart in her throat, her eyes close on the backs of the distant guards, Malon slipped over the edge of the wagon without a sound. She caught the chain between her wrists to keep it silent and slipped across a packed, rocky footpath to the nearest door. Her skin crawled at the slowness, but she forced herself to take her time easing it open until a crack was visible just wide enough to dart through.

She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder and yanked the door shut, pressing her back against it. She counted out ten, twenty, forty heartbeats. No angry voices yelled after her.

She slumped in relief, giddy disbelief rising in her chest. She’d done it. She slipped right out from under the Imperial Army’s noses with them none the wiser.

Now only two obstacles remained: the shackles around her wrists and the castle itself.

Although, she reasoned, doing her best to try to hide the shackles in the folds of her skirt, if she was within the castle already, undetected, it would be a shame to waste the opportunity. She _would_ get back to Twilight. That was her first and greatest priority.

But her son would be terribly disappointed to hear she was a stone’s throw away from the Emperor himself and didn’t cause him at least a little grief.

The narrow hallway around Malon twisted gradually upward. The farther she went, the more she began to recognize a familiar biting smell. The scent of lye soap and the sound of water drifted from up ahead and told her she must be near someplace used for laundry. It gave her an idea.

She turned one final corner that brought her to the edge of a big, open room scored overhead with wooden beams. The loud, low groaning of wheels turning in the water filled her ears and covered the sound of her feet shuffling back out of sight. Inside, a flurry of servants went about their work washing and hanging huge linens to dry.

Malon scanned the room until she found what she was looking for. Right at the corner of a table, a basket of folded laundry sat unattended and ripe for the picking. She waited for her moment, watched until all backs were turned, and snagged the basket.

She bit down hard on her lip and walked as fast as she could without drawing attention. She _really_ hoped that no servant was going to end up in too much trouble over this basket missing. With a little bit of careful arranging, she got her shackles buried within the fabrics and padded enough to keep the chain silent.

It wasn’t a perfect disguise, but at a glance she was sure she could be mistaken for a member of the castle staff. Now if she could just find some place to make the Emperor’s life a little more difficult, she’d be on her way. The dagger in her boot, she thought, might be the good beginning of a plan.

She exited into a wide, carpeted hall and took a moment to deeply savor the image of sneaking up on Ganon when his back was turned and planting the dagger before he had any time to react. Oh, she’d probably be killed immediately, but the _look_ on his face, the knowledge he’d have to live with at how _easy_ it had been. It was a satisfying thought.

Her good mood was shattered when she plowed into an armored guard turning the corner.

 _“Watch it,”_ he snarled as his partner snickered. The guard’s helmet was skewed and he straightened it quickly, an angry flush creeping across his face. His partner coughed over a snort. “Learn some respect, or I’ll—”

He grabbed for Malon’s arm and she jumped back out of reach. If one of them saw or heard the iron shackles, she was done for. She held the basket close to her chest.

“Oh, _there_ you are!” A new voice called out behind Malon. “What took you so long? I sent for fresh linens ages ago!”

She turned to see a girl in fine clothes striding down the hall, her long hair flaring out behind her. “Come along, this way. I don’t have all day.”

Malon blinked for a moment and took the opening in stride. She wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth and waste time worrying about it. “Right away, my lady.” She ducked her head in a bow to sell the bit and hurried away. 

The guard growled. “It’s rude to interrupt a conversation, _lady._ Are you still expecting all of us to do your bidding at the drop of a hat? Because otherwise, I might say you’re starting to forget your courtly manners.”

Malon reached the girl’s side. Though the girl held her head high, her form radiated tension. Her fingers twitched slightly with a tremor. 

The guard’s partner rolled her eyes. “Derin, only you would pick a fight with a child. Come on, I’m not missing the end of this shift because of you.” She pushed ahead, leaving him still glaring down the girl.

For a moment, he was still. Then he jumped forward and made a sudden noise, startling the girl, and laughed raucously. “I’m comin.’ I’m comin.’ Don’t need to nag me.”

His partner’s exasperated retort was lost when they disappeared.

“Come on,” the girl said, almost covering the shake in her voice. “Through here. We _could_ actually use some new linens if you have any in there that fit. Are you alright?” She pushed aside her own distress to turn her concern toward Malon. “Did he hurt you?”

“Nah, I’m okay. Are you, though? That was a bold thing you did, girl, I can tell they don’t like you much.” After a moment’s hesitation, she put a hand behind the girl’s shoulder. “I can tell they must not mind showin’ it, either.”

The girl took another trembling breath. “I’ll be fine. Come on in here,” she pushed through a heavy, arched door, “you can just pretend I called you up here to get new bedclothes for my sister.”

“For your…?” Malon stopped inside the door.

Inside was what was probably once a magnificent bedroom. Now, it almost looked more like tomb. Glossy tiles stretched across the floor, dulled by dust, and carved columns ringed in a plush, intricate red rug faded with footprints. A few sun-lightened curtains fell half across windows, like they’d been forgotten there.

The bed in the center did nothing to dissuade the comparison. It lay upon a carved marble slab with perfectly creased sheets, not a stitch out of place. A girl lay on top so still she might as well have been dead—if not for the faint rise and fall of her chest, Malon would have thought she was a statue. Her red hair fanned out around her, undisturbed, and the pale pink silk of her skirts lay arranged beneath the sheets when they were pulled back.

“What’s the matter?” Malon drew close, heart twisting for the sleeping girl. “Is she sick?”

The girl who’d come to Malon’s rescue drew her eyebrows together. “What’s the…do you not…know…?”

Her eyes fell on the shackles peeking out from behind Malon’s basket.

“You’re not a servant at all,” she realized. “You—how did you get in here?” She pushed herself between Malon and the sleeping girl, her voice hard as steel. “What do you want? Why did you come here?”

Malon put one hand half up in a placating gesture. “I’m not here to hurt anybody. Well,” she decided to take a risk, “except the Emperor, maybe, that’d be fine by me. I was arrested for workin’ against him and slipped away before they could get me to the dungeons. I was trying to get out when I ran into the dunce outside.”

The girl didn’t look convinced. “Why shouldn’t I think you’re here as an assassin, or a spy?”

“Do I look like an assassin?” Malon gestured to her dusty, worn farmer’s clothes. “Would someone working for Ganon be wearing shackles in his own castle?”

“…I suppose not,” the girl said at length. Then, disbelievingly, “Do you really not know who we are?”

“There’s not exactly an abundance of news gettin’ circulated out through the country these days,” Malon pointed out.

“Well,” the girl allowed. “I suppose not. Anyone on the Emperor’s payroll would know that at least. I’m Zelda,” she said, into the dusty dark room without fanfare, “and this is my sister of the same name. These days, though, we go by Dawn and Aurora.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: implication of harm attempted to the Minish, which I realize some people could be sensitive to
> 
> (Dawn and Aurora are the Zeldas from Legend of Zelda (the original) and Adventure of Link) (Aurora is Zelda I)
> 
> Those of y’all that know stuff about forging/blacksmithing are welcome to suggest any glaring details that I should add/change, I'm gonna try to do my best in this fic
> 
> Thanks to Spirit and TimeturnerJay for answering my questions about blacksmithing on Discord, like, forever ago y'all are angels
> 
> Next: Sky's first close encounter with the Empire


	4. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sky's first close encounter with the Empire.

Sky barely had time to get a good look at the Surface before it was rushing up toward him.

Dropping off his loftwing and then out from under the clouds, it was almost as if the world reversed itself—like Sky had fallen through the surface of a mirror and into its reflection. Where solid Skyloft had receded above into the endless blue void, the cloud barrier filling his vision, now the clouds spun out above him and faded to blue as the earth spread _everywhere_. It filled his sight, curving and hazy at its distant edges, resolving itself into sharp valleys and hills.

He fought down a wave of crawling panic. The wind pummeled him mercilessly, deafening in his ears. Clumsy and heavy as lead, he clawed at the sailcloth that whipped around his head and tugged it free, burying his hands in its folds with all his strength.

All at once, his arms jerked nearly out of their sockets and the world slowed to a gentle drift.

Sky took a moment to let the breeze billow through his tunic and the white spots clear from the corners of his vision. Hanging high above, he wondered at how the Surface could look so much like the sky. In his mind, he’d known there was more of it—the Surface stretched out so far, he knew, that you could travel for years and never reach an end.

But it was one thing to know and another completely to see the blue haze where it met the dome of the sky, how as he drifted closer it just kept growing and growing and _growing_. It was, Sky began to realize, a lot of ground to cover searching for Sun.

He tried not to think about how she must have felt seeing all this for the first time, plummeting without a sailcloth to catch her. It turned his stomach anyway.

After an eon of drifting down without an end, the mountains in the distance rose to cut across the horizon and the ground began to waver with a powerful heat, searing at Sky’s eyes. Hills curled up to kiss the sky, dry bushes rustled their branches, and the burning ground swallowed his feet up past the ankles.

Startled, he churned awkwardly for a minute and then faceplanted. His mouth filled with…sand?

He struggled free and spit out gritty saliva. Sand covered his hands and fell through the tops of his boots, dust caking in his hair. A scorching wind assaulted him and he hunched under an arm to try to shield his face. What was this place? Wasn’t the Surface supposed to just be a bigger version of Skyloft? Where were the trees and the grass? How could there be so much sand in one place?

When he stood up, dread sank through him. There was nothing down here. No sign of Sun, no sign of _life_. Just hot, endless hills of sand.

Hot, endless hills of sand…and something moving in the distance.

Sky shielded his eyes against the beating light and tried to make it out. It was long and thin, whatever it was, flapping in a way that looked like some kind of cloth blowing in the wind. Was he imagining the bumpy, dark shapes surrounding it, or was it just wishful thinking?

Not like he had a better option. And by the Goddess, he didn’t come all this way just to give up now. If he wanted to find Sun, first he needed to find somewhere to start looking.

Sky picked up his feet, shook out his shoes as best he could, and started walking.

\---

The good news was that it was a town. The closer he got, the more the long, thin thing resolved itself into a tattered banner and the bumpy shapes around it squared off into buildings hunched in the shelter of a rocky outcropping.

The bad news was that it was devastated.

Awnings creaked and swayed, hanging on by splinters. Violent holes pitted the rooftops and exposed beams below, throwing shafts of sunlight inside. Shutters creaked and clattered over broken windows. Even the wind made a mournful keening sound that send a chill up Sky’s spine.

Signs of life persisting inside were the only thing that kept him moving. At the end of the road, he could see a woman with her hands wrapped picking up shards of glass, collecting them in her skirt. A handful of men carried a tarp piled high with rubble, and around the bend of the road he thought he could make out someone on a roof, nailing a hole shut with a bolt of canvas. All of them stopped to stare when they noticed Sky.

“Um…hello.” Sky, who hadn’t met a stranger in his living memory, grasped at straws for what he was supposed to say to them. “Have you, uh, seen…a…girl?”

They continued to stare.

“She’s…blonde…has long hair…pink dress…about this tall…” He held up a hand for comparison.

“No.” The woman with the wrapped hands finally answered. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”

“Ah…” he wondered if ‘sky’ counted as an appropriate answer to both questions. Then he tried to imagine how he’d feel if their situations were flipped and a stranger showed up on Skyloft one day, claiming to be from the surface.

Their stares made a lot more sense now.

“Far away?” He tried. “I’m…I’m lost.”

One of the men holding the tarp snorted. “I’ll say,” he muttered. This seemed to be enough input for him, because he began urging his friends back to work, leaving Sky and the woman to their conversation.

“And I need to find my friend,” Sky tried again, growing desperate. “If there’s anything you can think of that might help, anything you’ve seen at all…”

The woman sighed. She arched her back, rolling out her shoulders and adjusting her grip on her skirt. “Young man, I’m sorry.” Her mouth twisted in sympathy as she bent to the ground once again, searching for shards. “If there’s anyone traveling out here, especially alone, their chances aren’t good. Even without all the Blin, the storm would’a got ‘em anyway.”

The windstorm. The one that had knocked Sun and Sky from their loftwings. Was that what had caused this damage?

Sky looked around the town with new eyes, realizing just how _large_ the storm must have been. It towered up beyond the barrier of the clouds, but had its roots here, wreaking havoc on the Surface. It must have taken powerful magic to create.

His heart ached. Though they didn’t know it, Skyloft wasn’t the only place hurting from this mysterious attack. He wished he had time to stay and help. But he knew every minute he lagged behind was another minute farther away from Sun and the source of the storm.

“The storm,” he repeated out loud. “Did you see which direction it came from?”

The woman cut him a sideways look but pointed a finger off toward the mountains. The outcropping that shielded the town, Sky saw, ran down and connected to a gap in the cliffs, with a great canyon just visible beyond.

“Strangest storm I’ve ever seen,” she groused. “Didn’t act like anything natural. I’d swear my boots it crept right out the stacks, like as it were some kinda Blin or somesuch. Roared through the town with-all-Dinsfire an’ just camped out right on the dunes, easy as you please.”

Sky understood a few of those words separately. He had a direction to go, so he guessed that was what mattered. “Thank you, ma’am. I hope the Goddess speeds your town’s rebuilding.”

“Sure,” she said. He frowned to hear how she turned bitter at the mention of the Goddess, but he didn’t push it. She went back to her broken glass. “Hope things turn out okay with your girl. Do me a favor an’ don’t get yourself killed out there.”

Sky sized up the cliffs uncertainly. “I’ll do my best.”

\---

As he wandered through the shadow and silence of the towering rocks, it occurred to Sky to wonder what the woman meant by ‘the Blin.’

Already, his imagination was making shapes in the corner of his eye, every skittering pebble and whistle of the wind forming into a monster stalking his steps. Whatever they were, that woman had expected them to have hurt Sun; Sky hoped he wouldn’t have to meet them.

It was strange, to him, not to be able to tell time by seeing the position of the sun. In Skyloft, he’d taken for granted that they could see it all the time; here, the sheer walls of rock on either side of him narrowed the sky to a blue slice directly overhead. Between that and the way his trail seemed to go on and on, every bend revealing another stretch with more rocks, he got the impression of no time passing at all.

After long enough, though, the sliver of sunlight that persisted at the top of the canyon was gone. The sky was beginning to pitch to more of a bruised purple, steadily growing darker by the hour.

Sky almost gave up hope before he saw it.

In the distance, a trail of smoke curled its lazy tendrils up into the fading light.

Sky broke into a run. When the next bend brought him at an angle to the smoke, and then the next, and the next, he gritted his teeth. How many turns would he have to take in this rocky maze? He hurtled over a crag and almost barked his shin as the light of day continued to slip away.

One more turn brought him to an opening.

He nearly stumbled over a sharp dip in the ground that sloped down, cutting to and fro in waves obscured by billowing dust. Staggered in the haze, a forest of craggy pillars soared high and layered, the stone warm with a multitude of colors. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry, he might have thought it was beautiful.

As it was, Sky locked onto the smoke. The source had to be here, somewhere in this valley.

Bracing one hand on the ledge before him, he pushed off and planted both feet below. Clouds swirled in his wake, choking him and coating the inside of his throat. His world faded to pillars and half-light and he crept, locked onto the last place he saw the smoke.

If it had been quiet before, it was nothing compared to the oppressive silence pushing in on Sky’s eardrums now. Only his footsteps echoed, accompanied by the distant, low drone of the wind somewhere far away.

A pebble bounced behind him and he froze.

Turning to look, he found nothing. He was getting too jumpy. He took a fortifying breath and moved on.

“Now, who is this?” A lazy voice drawled directly in his ear.

Sky’s heart ratcheted into his mouth. He pivoted and drew his sword.

A man was _right behind him._ White lips curled into a predator’s grin on a face pale as the dead, his dark eyes narrowed in mirth. “Don’t be shy!” The man beckoned with a flourish of his crimson cloak. His white hair fluttered with the movement, straight-edged and sharp, like steel. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting company all the way out here. Tell me, what errand is it that brings you this way, boy?”

Sky backed away, putting his blade between them—and a healthy amount of space, while he was at it.

“No, wait.” The man tapped a gloved finger against his lips. “It’s you, isn’t it? That sky-child, the one I thought my tornado tossed and tore apart. Yet here you are. Not in pieces.”

“It was you.” Sky tightened his grip on his sword. “Where’s Sun? What did you do with her?”

The man rolled his eyes and continued on like Sky hadn’t interrupted. “Not that your life or death has any consequence,” he clarified. “It’s just the girl that matters, and that…” he ran two fingers through his hair. “That, I have taken care of.”

Rage boiled within Sky, mixing in with his fear and turning his blood hot. He let out a roar and charged with his sword held high.

Calm as taking a breath, the man used his two fingers to catch the blade neatly. He ripped it from Sky’s grasp with unnatural force.

“Interesting.” Sky stumbled backwards, helpless to do anything but watch as the man turned his sword over and appraised it. “This toy of yours. It reeks with enchantment. I wonder, where did you get this?”

Sky searched desperately for something to use as a weapon. He didn’t dare make a grab for his sword—it would be too easy for the man to turn it against him. His attention landed on a hand-sized rock next to his heel.

He was distracted when the man brought Sky’s sword up to his face and _licked_ it. A tongue flicked out that would be more fitting on a reptile. Sky shuddered in revulsion. What _was_ this man?

His dark eyes hardened. “This is Goddess-magic. A sword gifted from Her Majesty herself; that doesn’t happen to just anyone, boy.”

“What about it?” Sky challenged. He felt out with his foot for the rock and prepared to lunge for it.

The man sent a laugh ringing through the valley. “’What about it?’ Sky-child, you really are ignorant of this land you look down on, this world you call the Surface! Allow me to explain. I am known as Lord Ghirahim; the Demon Lord, greatest of all the Emperor’s hunters.”

In the blink of an eye, he was behind Sky’s back, speaking in his ear again. “And, boy, _I know what you are.”_ His hand dug into Sky’s shoulder like a claw.

Sky sucked in a breath through his teeth and ducked away. He rolled to the ground, straining until his fingertips found the rock. With one sharp movement, he caught it up and launched it into Ghirahim.

Just as he’d hoped, the self-proclaimed Demon Lord hissed and dropped his sword. Sky grabbed it, darting as close as he dared, then retreated. He resolved not to let it leave his hand again.

“That was a dirty trick, _Hero,”_ Ghirahim snarled. “Very well. If it’s a fight you want before I bring you in, I’ll be perfectly happy to beat you within an inch of your life.”

He’d barely finished speaking before he made to snatch Sky’s blade again. But this time, Sky was ready. He whipped it out of reach, twisting at the last second to slice at an angle and force Ghirahim to dodge.

And dodge he did. The man practically melted around his blade like water, never harried in the slightest, never faltering in his onslaught. Where Sky darted and pushed, lunging all his strength into his strikes, Ghirahim only stepped and kept circling.

Sky feinted, then found an opening to get close.

He was met with a slap across the face, sending him stumbling.

In the back of his mind, he felt his time ticking down. The light slipped lower every minute, dipping the valley into twilight. If he didn’t hurry before night fell, his chances of finding Sun would plummet. What did Ghirahim mean when he said he ‘took care of’ her? She couldn’t be…

Sky shook himself, dancing out of reach of Ghirahim’s hand near his sword. Sun had to be alive. Otherwise Ghirahim would have no reason to still be here. He must have her captive, and it must be somewhere nearby.

He needed to find the fire that smoke came from.

“What’s that look for?” Ghirahim rested his chin on one hand. “It almost seems like a thought’s trying to cross that little head of yours. Care to share—?”

Sky switched tactics and barreled into him at full speed. Ghirahim, caught off guard, suddenly found his feet flying from under him. His recovery was graceful, planting one hand to push himself in to a crouch by the time he hit the ground, but by that point Sky was already running the other way.

“Oh, lost your nerve already?” Ghirahim’s voice lilted after him.

A flurry of diamonds erupted before Sky and Ghirahim stepped into his way. “Unfortunately, we still have business to attend to, Hero.”

Sky rolled between his legs.

His collar closed against his throat as Ghirahim snagged the back of his tunic.

“Aw,” Ghirahim clicked his tongue, “do you have somewhere to be? Someone to _meet_ , maybe?”

Sky had to get to Sun. Everything else fell to the back of his mind.

He tore his tunic free and kept running. An elbow materialized and drove into his stomach.

“Honestly, your level of determination would be sweet if it weren’t so pathetically deluded.”

Choking on air, Sky moved around him and kept running.

The next time a splash of diamonds crossed his path, he leapt up onto a ledge and ran along it instead.

When Ghirahim swiped at his feet, he jumped. When something whistled and sliced the edge of his ear, he turned around a pillar to block the next one. “Run away, little hero.” Ghirahim taunted from above. “By the time you find your princess, all your strength will be used up.”

Sky had never run so far or so fast in his life. But he pushed on.

The ground began to shake beneath his feet. Sky looked up, heart pounding, and saw a cliffside falling in his path. It crumbled and trailed clouds billowing in its wake, sending knife-shards down first, then boulders.

Sky gathered his strength and jumped.

He scrambled across a roaring hillside, muscles screaming, lungs aching. He forced himself to focus—one more spot to land on, then another, then another. He pushed off a boulder that crumbled beneath him, scrabbled by his fingernails, and pulled himself onward.

As a column of stone rumbled and fell behind him, caught in the force of the landslide, he dove under an arch for cover and kept running.

The earthquake fell behind him.

Between the darkening pillars, a warm, dancing flicker appeared, and he chased it.

And then he rounded a bend and found a campfire, and then—

—there she was.

He collapsed to his knees, shaky with exhaustion. She was unconscious, her hair splayed carelessly in the sand and her hands tied behind her back. But she was there. She was warm, breathing, and _alive_.

“Sun. Sun!” He cupped her face in his hand.

Footsteps sounded behind him. Sky forced himself to stand on trembling legs, shielding Sun, and held his sword at the ready. Ghirahim strolled toward him, clapping his hands slowly all the way.

“Well done. You put up more of a fight than I thought possible out of such a soft boy. But don’t clap for yourself yet.” Ghirahim’s hands stilled. “I fear I spent far too long teasing and toying with you. After that little rock shower, likely the whole desert knows we’re here. I’d like to hand you both off and get on with my business before we get too much…unsavory company.”

To punctuate his last words, he flourished a hand and produced a long, dark, wicked looking saber.

“What’s…the matter…” Sky challenged, heaving for breath. “Did I…wear you out?”

Ghirahim stared down his nose at him, unimpressed.

Then he snapped and materialized a line of black daggers from the air.

Sky swore and tried to angle his sword to catch them, swiping them away. One screeched a spark on the stone wall behind him. Flickering his gaze away to look at it, only for the barest of seconds, Sky didn’t realize until too late that Ghirahim’s sword was arcing down toward him.

He hurried to block the blade and was driven back to his knees with the force of it.

“You’re irritating me, boy. Keep it up and I might just have to let my blade ‘accidentally’ slip before this fight ends.” Leaning in close, Ghirahim bore down until the razor edge of his black saber brushed Sky’s face, hovering over his cheek. Sky shook with the effort to keep it away.

Beneath him, Sun was bracketed against the wall, close enough now that his back was almost touching her shoulder.

It was why he could feel when she began to stir imperceptibly.

A new wave of determination shot through him. With one last shove, he forced up Ghirahim’s sword and leapt forward, headbutting him in the chest. The wheezing cough that followed brought him no small amount of satisfaction. Using the momentum, he pushed away opposite from Sun and prayed that Ghirahim would pursue.

They always said to be careful what you wished for. With frightening, unnatural speed, Ghirahim blurred into Sky and drove him back with the hilt of his sword. Pain rippled through Sky’s chest at the point of impact. He coughed, swearing that he could feel his heart skip from the force of it.

Ghirahim’s breathing was ragged and uneven now. His taunts were gone.

With another blow, Sky lost his footing. The ground smashed into his shoulder, sending up another flaring ache. He scrambled to get an arm under himself and get up, but a trio of daggers drove through the edges of his tunic, pinning his left side to the ground. Panic seized him. He couldn’t move.

“That,” said Ghirahim, the mocking lilt dropped from his voice, “is enough of that.”

He buried a kick in Sky’s chest, hard enough that his ribs cried out in protest. Sky yelped. He instinctively curled up to protect himself, which meant he could do nothing to stop another kick aimed at his right side, flipping him over. With sand gritting between his teeth, Sky felt his arms being dragged behind his back and tied with rope.

This couldn’t be it. Not with Sun so close. Sky twisted his head but couldn’t catch sight of her from where he lay.

At least if they were going to be captured, his sinking heart said, they were going to stay together. Some hero he was turning out to be.

“Thanks to this little… _complication…”_ Ghirahim pulled the ropes painfully tight. “We’re going to need a change in scenery. If you like your Princess’s fingers where they are now, you’ll go without causing any trouble.”

Sky said nothing. With Sun at stake, what other choice did he have?

He tried again to wiggle around enough to see her. When he did, he had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself silent. She was moving, her eyes open and blinking sluggishly at their surroundings.

Ghirahim stood and brushed the dirt off his white pants with his nose wrinkled in utter disgust. With a snap of his fingers, a portal cut open and emitted, of all things, the skeletal, batlike form of a dark keese.

Sun’s eyes found Sky’s and went wide, a thousand emotions crossing her face in an instant. There was shock there, and relief, and panic—along with something he couldn’t name, something soft and ardent all centered on him.

Her gaze travelled up to Ghirahim. She clamped her own mouth shut as she pieced together what was happening.

Ghirahim began scratching out a message onto a strip of parchment and then fixing it to the monster’s leg.

Sky had known Sun too long not to know what it meant when she narrowed her eyes like that. He tried to silently plead for her not to try anything dangerous. It did nothing to stop her from sliding up onto her knees, bending and contorting until she began to work her bound hands under her feet and in front of her.

With a rustling flap, Ghirahim launched the keese upward to send it on its way. That settled, he sighed and turned to face Sun.

She glared, caught in the act but refusing to be intimidated. “Don’t.” She braced her bound hands. “Touch.” She pushed herself to her feet, teeth bared in a snarl. “HIM!”

With a fierce cry, she sent a kick aimed between Ghirahim’s legs that he barely managed to dodge. His eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. “Adorable. A Princess and her Knight. You two are like a fairy tale come to life.” His voice dripped with condescension.

When she made another pass at him, he stepped aside easily and tripped her skidding into the dirt.

“Sun!” Sky struggled to try to reach her.

“In case you didn’t hear before, let me remind you,” Ghirahim said. “I am the best hunter in the Empire. In the world, even. This little attempt is very cute, but futile. There is no move you can make that I cannot easily predict. There is no technique you can use that I have not seen. _Nothing_ surprises me.”

The dark keese he’d sent off landed at his feet in a heap.

He blinked down at it, stunned out of his speech. Sky and Sun stared, equally stupefied.

It crumbled slowly into smoke, dead on impact.

Then a _person_ landed at his feet in a crouch and knocked him back into a pillar.

“What is—?” Ghirahim started, then had to break off to avoid twin daggers moving like lightning. He growled, a grating and unnatural sound like grinding metal, before parrying with his saber.

The two hacked and darted so quickly Sky couldn’t make out one blow from the next. Ghirahim swiped at the attacker’s feet and they flipped, scoring their daggers against his shoulders. He made to stab at their chest and they snatched his blade between theirs, wrenching it from his grasp.

“Enough games.” He snapped, surrounding the attacker with his own black daggers floating in the air. “Who _dares_ interrupt my business?”

“I think you know,” the attacker said. They swatted half the daggers aside with their own knife, dodging the rest save for one that buried itself in their shoulder. They winced but didn’t falter.

Ghirahim’s eyes landed on the attacker’s chestplate. The red eye symbol there with a teardrop falling below meant nothing to Sky, but Ghirahim surged and spit the word _“Sheikah”_ with scathing rage.

Sky startled when he felt hands at his wrists. “It’s just me, sleepyhead,” Sun reassured him. The nickname fell short of its usual humor. She was scared. “Let me see if I can get this rope off.”

The walls of the canyon still rang with the sounds of battle, but Sky arched his back to get a look at her. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He could barely see the edge of her fond, strained smile. “I was out for most of it, anyway. Now, quit squirming, I almost…got…there!” The rope fell away from his hands and he pulled them free, tugging out the daggers that pinned his tunic to the ground.

“Thanks.” When he got up, all he could do for a minute was sit and drink her in. It had only been a day since the last time he’d seen her, but the fear of losing her had made it feel like a lifetime. Seeing her in person always made him remember anew what it was like to get caught in her sweetness, in the fierce, determined fire in her eyes. Even bruised, weary, and covered in dirt, she stole his breath away.

“Um…do you think you could…” she held up her bound hands.

“Oh! Sorry! Yeah, let me—where’s my sword—”

“One of those daggers will probably work,” she advised, her nose scrunched in the attempt not to laugh.

“Mm hm.” Sky decided it was high time he kept his mouth shut and grabbed a dagger.

“Hey!” A sharp whistle drew his attention. The warrior attacking Ghirahim paused to cut a hand out toward their end of the valley. “Down that way, through that pass! There’s some scaffolding—get up to the top!”

Sky and Sun shared a look. It seemed like as good an idea as any. “Got it!” Sky shouted back. He sawed at the rope around Sun’s wrists with renewed fervor.

“They’re good, I’m out!” Sun shoved the cut ropes off and jumped to her feet. “Your sword, over there.”

Sky scooped it up, grabbed Sun’s outstretched hand, and bolted.

The stretch between their spot along the wall of the valley and the crevice they aimed for seemed to go on forever. Every second Sky fought the urge to turn around, sure that he would find Ghirahim right on their heels. Sun’s sweaty, white-knuckled hand in his was grounding. As long as he could feel it, he knew she was still by his side.

His ribs throbbed where Ghirahim kicked them and he hacked a cough.

“You’re hurt…” said Sun. Guilt marred her face.

Sky squeezed her hand. “’Don’t worry about me,’” he quoted her own words back to her with a tight smile. “I’ll be okay as long as we can both make it out of here.”

She nodded. “Here! This way.” She tugged their joined hands up to a step in the stone. Beyond was the pass that the warrior told them to take. Sky let her scramble up first, boosting his hands under one of her boots so that she could turn around and help pull him up after her.

“This must be it.” Immediately, he found a series of long, rickety planks spidering their way up the narrow gap before them. The edges at the top were almost close enough to touch—a lattice of walkways crossed them easily.

“Alright.” Sun craned her neck back and huffed a nervous laugh. “No loftwings, so. Don’t fall.”

Sky swallowed. “Good idea.”

Together, the edged up the scaffolding.

Once they started to climb, it was both better and worse than Sky expected. The boards were deceptively sturdy; with the number of supports beneath them, even though some had rotted away over time, enough were left to keep their footing steady. The ladders, on the other hand, were a nightmare. A rung crumbled in Sky’s hand as soon as he tried to hold his weight, and he would have toppled if it hadn’t been for Sun’s quick reflexes. In the end, they had to waste valuable seconds pushing a crate in place to get enough height to clear the next level.

As they finally began to cross halfway, Sky noticed with growing dread that he could hear sounds of a struggle below. A glance at Sun confirmed it. The fight was catching up with them.

The warrior’s whistle sounded again. It was the only thing that kept Sky from striking on instinct when a head and shoulders popped up beside them. Sun shrieked anyway, and the warrior had to dodge a kick.

“Sorry,” Sun apologized immediately. She offered a hand and helped heave the warrior up.

“Hurry,” the warrior urged, “he’s coming up behind me.”

Adrenaline shot through Sky’s veins as the warrior pulled out something sharp on the end of a rope and spun it around, arcing it up to the top lip of the canyon. It stuck there and held up against a testing tug.

“Climb! I’ll follow.” The warrior pushed Sun and Sky into action. They took up the rear, curling the rope in a loop over their shoulder so that they kept the end close. The sight of freedom from the rocky pit revitalized Sky. He poured all the strength he had left into climbing.

Without warning, the rope jerked in his hands, nearly sending him flying off. He slipped a couple of heart-stopping inches and held on for dear life.

“Why won’t you just _die,_ already?” The warrior bucked and lashed out where Ghirahim _clung to the sheer face of the rock,_ jabbing with his saber.

“When I get finished with you,” he promised, seething, “there won’t be enough left to reform that _cursed eye.”_

Sky urged himself on, dragging one hand over the other, clearing the last few feet of rope to the top.

He rolled onto the topmost beam of scaffolding and wheezed. Wordless, he put out an arm to tug Sun up after him.

“Incoming!” The warrior coiled over the beam’s edge with Ghirahim clawing at their back. Sky panicked, trying to think of something to do that wouldn’t push them both to their deaths.

With one last great shout, though, the warrior flipped to their back and kicked free. Ghirahim slipped over the edge, crashing and tearing through scaffolding all the way.

A heavy, resounding silence followed.

Sun stared at the place he had been, frozen with round eyes. “Is he…?” she stared, uncharacteristically quiet.

“I think he’s harder to kill than that, unfortunately,” the warrior lamented. “For now, at least, though, we can get out of here.”

They turned and walked off, following the edge of the canyon. After a moment’s hesitation, Sun and Sky trailed along behind. Up here, Sky noticed, everything was flat, like a table. The ground was a solid rock that rose and fell in chips, broken only by a handful of stubborn trees twisted against the wind. The effect made it feel lonely and alien—although, he guessed, down here everything seemed alien to him.

“Thank you,” Sun said, finally. “We owe you our lives.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Silence fell between them. Sun chewed her lip at the warrior’s back, silently asking Sky what he thought. He didn’t know. On one hand, this person did just save them. On the other, Sun and Sky didn’t know anything more about them than they did about Ghirahim.

“What’s your name?” Sun settled on asking. “I’m Sun. And this is Sky.”

“Sheik.” The warrior didn’t turn.

Sky was going to need a more direct answer than that. “Who are you, Sheik? Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe.”

Sky stopped. Sun stopped with him, slipping her hand in his again.

It made his stomach do something fluttery, but it also emboldened him. “How do we know we can trust you? You could tell us anything—we don’t know how things work down here; we won’t know the difference. How do we know you’re not someone like Ghirahim who’s just better at lying?”

Sheik did finally stop at that and turn to face them. In the hazy light just past sundown, Sky couldn’t make anything out besides the impression of a pair of eyes peeking out in a wrapped face. What he could see was unreadable, scanning him and Sun with no indication of the warrior’s thoughts.

“That’s a good question.” Sheik sounded impressed. “You two are sharper than I thought.”

The warrior reached up and began unwinding the wrappings from their head, letting loose the top of the choppy, blonde braid that trailed in a rope down their back. When Sheik tugged the scarf from their face, Sky felt his jaw drop.

It was a woman who looked uncannily like Sun.

“I’m not someone like Ghirahim,” she said. Without her face covered, the amusement was much clearer to see. “I’m someone like you. Most people do know me as Sheik; that’s the cover I need to maintain while we’re traveling. But between the three of us, you can call me Artemis.”

“You’re—” Sun gasped.

“A Princess, like you,” Artemis finished. “And I’m taking you to the people who still think that’s something worth fighting for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this world, Ghirahim's a Hylian mage instead of a sword spirit. Still just as much personality, though
> 
> (Artemis is the Zelda of Hyrule Warriors)
> 
> I stole the term 'the Blin' from The Wolf of Farore by Wayward_Chronicler, which helped inspire some of the vibe of this fic
> 
> Next: Twilight and Hyrule get directions from a dubious source. Four splits. Dawn's social interaction could use some work.


	5. Gathering Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twilight and Hyrule get directions from a dubious source. Four splits. Dawn's social interaction could use some work.
> 
> Edit on 9/5/2020: fixed a typo

“There’s someone up ahead.” Twilight lifted a hand to shield his eyes against the setting sun. “We should ask for directions.”

Since the Koroks had guided them to the edge of the Lost Woods into the huge open bowl of gentle hills beyond, their path had been hauntingly empty. By the look of the roads, overgrown with grass that brushed at Hyrule’s waist in some parts, and the skeletons of a few wagons being slowly reclaimed by the earth, nobody had made it to the other side of the forest in a long, long time. Hyrule and Twilight struck lonely figures in the blazing afternoon light, their only company a few scampering rabbits.

As the sun was beginning to sink big and fiery on the horizon, the road began to curve closer to the glimmering thread of a river in the distance. In Hyrule’s experience, where rivers appeared, people often followed, so he wasn’t surprised to find that they had some company at last.

The traveler up ahead was leaned back in a dip in the land, their pack settled beside them. It was still too far away to make out many features, but nothing stood out from the ordinary.

The slanted, golden light of evening cast a long shadow stretching out to the traveler’s side. Hyrule’s imagination made the dark smudge twist and reach out toward them hungrily, faint dread churning in his stomach. Something seemed off.

Hyrule edged closer to Twilight. “I don’t trust them,” he murmured under his breath, “something’s not right.”

Twilight looked from Hyrule to the traveler. He chewed his lip in thought. “I don’t think we have a choice. Neither of us knows this area, right?” Reluctantly, Hyrule nodded. “I think we might have to take our chances, or we could be lost wandering out here forever.”

Hyrule knew the sense in what Twilight was saying, but that didn’t stop him from hanging back with a hand wrapped around the hilt of his dagger.

“Excuse me, sir,” Twilight hailed the traveler as soon as they got close. “My friend and I seem to be lost. Do you know this area?”

From this distance, Hyrule could now make out simple, nondescript traveling robes, cropped, dark hair and eyes that crinkled at the corners when the man saw them. “Well, hello there! I have to say, I wasn’t expecting to see anyone out this way. Not much reason for most people to get this close to the Woods.”

“Yeah,” Twilight scratched the back of his head, giving a self-deprecating chuckle, “bad shortcut we made, I guess, in hindsight. What about you—if you don’t mind me asking, that is. What brings you all the way out here?”

“Oh,” the man gave a long sigh, rubbing his feet. “Just checking up on things, from time to time. It’s a long way to come, but you can find some interesting things out here in these ruins. Maybe, if you’re lucky, even a ghost or two.” He laughed like it was some kind of inside joke only he understood.

Hyrule didn’t know why, but a slow, dark chill ran its finger up his spine at the words. “Is that what you’re looking for?” He asked. “A ghost?”

When Hyrule spoke up for the first time, the man seemed to finally notice him lurking over Twilight’s shoulder. “Something like that,” he said evenly. “You said you two needed directions?”

“That would be great,” Twilight gave him a thin-lipped smile. “If you could just point us toward a town, or somewhere we might be able to find a map, maybe…?”

“You’re in luck.” The man stood and stretched out his back with an audible pop. He raised an arm to point. “If you head off down that way, into that dip and past those cliffs, there’s a little refugee camp. Should be able to find some room in there, and food, too.”

“Refugees?” Twilight asked.

“Y’know,” the man slung up his pack and settled it on his shoulders. “Wanderers, vagabonds. Probably some foreigners who fled the fighting at the borders. Might meet a Gerudo woman if you’re lucky.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta be off. Got ghosts to look for.”

Despite his joking about the Gerudo, he directed the last part to Hyrule with a dark glint in his eye. True to his word, he set off for the wagon remains crouched in the distance, the bodies of a few gutted Guardians gleaming in the dying light. Every step he took away let Hyrule breathe a little easier, his pulse settling for reasons he still couldn’t discern.

“We should get going,” Twilight’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “If we hurry, we can probably make it before too long after dark. Maybe after that we can try to figure out some kind of plan.”

Something inside Hyrule recoiled at the idea of following directions from the strange man. He still couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling curling between his shoulder blades, telling him there was a trap hidden under the rippling grasses, that they were walking into the jaws of an invisible snake lying in wait. But he knew they didn’t have a choice. There was nowhere else to go besides the endless open plains.

\---

The traveler’s words proved true. Beneath the shadow of the rocky cliffs, a crevice opened up to reveal a bustling refugee camp. Tents of all makes and colors, some foreign and stitched with patterns Hyrule had never seen before, were clustered around a scattering of winking fires. Silhouettes flitted in the light, going about the business of settling for the night, and a heady mix of spices and smells of cooking meats made Hyrule’s stomach gnaw at him.

“At least he was right about the camp,” Twilight hefted his pack, giving Hyrule a relieved look. “Maybe it’ll turn out alright? Whatever bad feeling you got from him, maybe it’s passed, now.”

“I hope so.” At the moment, all Hyrule could feel was his biting hunger. The dread had faded to a whisper. He pushed it off in favor of the more pressing matter of tracking down some food. 

As they approached the other travelers, Hyrule fell back and let Twilight do most of the talking. Where Hyrule always felt awkward and jumpy around strangers, always stumbling over his own tongue and half-expecting them to pull a knife on him, Twilight greeted everyone as a long-lost friend. Within minutes, he and a stocky woman with a dark braid were chatting like they’d known each other for years. Hyrule couldn’t help a little bit of jealousy at how easy Twilight made it look.

A feeling made the hairs on the back of Hyrule’s neck prickle. Like there were eyes on him he couldn’t see.

“What about you?” Hyrule startled when the woman turned to him. “You seem like someone who’s been around. Have _you_ ever had the chance to visit the Gerudo desert?”

“Uh—y-yeah.” He fumbled out a response, caught off-guard. “Kinda close. One time. The canyon-y part…uh…to, like. On the east side.” He made a vague rightward gesture with his hand to indicate ‘east.’ “Not the actual. Desert. I mean.”

The woman—he didn’t catch a name; he should have been paying better attention—grinned. “Oh? What did you think of it?”

Hyrule really, really wished he could be left out of this conversation. “Not really my favorite?” The honest answer fell out as his mind blanked. “Not very…friendly…there. Did not have a good time.” Which was really an understatement, considering the fact that he’d stumbled into the area and found it swarming with Imperial forces and Imperial-friendly Gerudo, barely escaping with his life.

“…really.” The woman’s open friendliness remained, but the firelight flashed across calculating eyes. “Huh. Sorry to hear it.” Twilight gave her a wary glance behind her back and bugged his eyes at Hyrule.

“Ah, I’m kinda just bad with people, though,” Hyrule’s voice came out strained, “so that was probably it.” He gave a stiff shrug and held up his hands as if to say, _‘what can you do?’_

He cursed himself for not thinking. Just because this was a refugee camp didn’t mean everyone here was necessarily against the Empire. If he didn’t watch his step, they’d get into hot water just as quickly as anywhere else.

Mercifully, their conversation was interrupted by dinner getting finished over the fire and Twilight managed to turn the talk to the oncoming hurricane season. Before long, he had masterfully swanned into an impressive thirty-minute speech on the various methods of protecting crops against bad weather and finally managed to run the woman off.

“Sorry,” Hyrule said into his soup. “It just kinda slipped out.”

“’S alright,” Twilight reassured him. He got up to ladle some more soup into his bowl and poke at the embers. “Just gotta be more careful. It would be a pretty dumb reason to get turned in. Have you really been to Gerudo?”

Hyrule grinned wryly. “Yeah. I wasn’t kidding about not having a good time. There’s literally, like, nothing there _but_ soldiers. Aside from a couple of lizards. And Beedle.” Oh, Beedle. Always a friendly face in the most illogical places.

His grin faded. The feeling of being watched had returned. He thought he caught a dark shape in the night moving out of the corner of his eye but couldn’t make anything out. A wave of goosebumps raised on his arms.

Ignorant to Hyrule’s unease, Twilight stepped out to toss a burnt crust of bread. Hyrule sucked in a breath at the noise it made landing in the dry heather and Twilight turned to look at him with his eyebrows knotted together.

Tension climbed Hyrule’ shoulders and he motioned silently for Twilight to move back toward the fire, one finger over his lips. Twilight gave the dark night a wary glance and began to edge away.

The only warning Hyrule got was Twilight’s eyes narrowing in realization and the barest hint of a crouch before he sprang and dragged a thrashing figure out of hiding. Hyrule yelped, dropping his spoon and bowl with a clatter and nearly falling off of the rock he’d been sitting on.

 _“Keep it down,”_ Twilight warned the figure in his grasp, “unless you want the whole camp over here.”

The figure hissed like an angry raccoon which was, admittedly, somewhat quieter than the shout he’d made a second ago. Looking at him dangling from Twilight’s fist by the scruff of his neck, the first thing immediately noticeable was his long, tangled mat of blonde hair littered with sticks and debris. Beneath a layer of dirt, sharp blasts of scar tissue bit into his arms and twisted around his scowl. While one hand pried and scratched at Twilight’s hand, the other clutched the burnt crust of bread close to his chest with white knuckles.

Twilight seemed to pick up on that fact as soon as Hyrule did and tilted his head, considering. “You weren’t spying on us at all, huh—not that you didn’t hear a good bit anyway.”

The boy gave him a silent glare.

“I’m willin’ to bet that’s what you were really after, weren’t you?” Twilight used his free hand to gesture to the bread. Shrewdly, the boy looked from Twilight to Hyrule, then at the bread in his hand. Apparently not liking his chances, he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth and gave Twilight a glower daring him to take it back.

Twilight held his free hand up in surrender. “You can have it, that’s fine. In fact, we got more food if you want it. Some pretty good soup, here.”

Hyrule could practically see the scales weighing behind the boy’s eyes. On one hand, freedom escaping into the night. On the other, free food. Having personal experience with hunger, Hyrule knew which one he’d choose.

Sure enough, the boy nodded and accepted the offer to sit on the far edge of Twilight’s log, albeit while watching the both of them warily. The minute the bowl touched his hands, he almost managed to swallow its contents in one gulp, holding it tight like someone might snatch it away from him.

“So,” Twilight said in a conversational tone, as if there was nothing unusual about the feral teenager eyeing them both over like he was looking for pockets to pick, “you got a name? Mine’s Twilight, by the way, and my friend over here is Hyrule.”

Hyrule gave a two-fingered wave.

The boy took so long to answer that Hyrule thought he wasn’t going to. He wouldn’t even be sure the guy understood them at all if it wasn’t for the sharpness behind his eyes.

“…Link.” His voice was cracked and scratchy from disuse.

Twilight and Hyrule sucked in a breath as one. While Twilight clapped a hand over the boy’s mouth—unnecessarily, as he clearly didn’t intend to be chatty—Hyrule peered around to see if anyone heard. As far as he could tell, nobody was close enough. His heart pounded in his throat. Another Link.

“Augh!” Twilight snapped his hand back, shaking it out. “You bit me!”

The boy spit irritably and shifted farther away, watching Twilight with extreme distrust.

“Fine,” Twilight groused, “sorry. But you can’t throw that name around.” He lowered his voice, scanning for onlookers, “You’re lucky we are who we are, or you coulda been in trouble. What name do you go by?”

The boy tensed, ready in case Twilight should choose to put a hand over his mouth again. _“Link,”_ he insisted again, eyebrows furrowed. He bared his teeth when this prompted another round of shushing from Twilight and Hyrule.

“And you’re not _dead?”_ Twilight whistled. “Takes guts, I’ll give you that. But it’s not worth it for the trouble. You need a nickname or somethin’.”

Confusion clouded the boy’s eyes as he scraped at some vegetables in the bottom of his bowl. Twilight moved to ladle him the last of the soup and ended up having to bring the ladle to him, rolling his eyes when the boy wouldn’t give up the bowl. “Hmm…” Twilight mused, still on the subject of nicknames. “What about ‘Wild’? Seems accurate.”

The boy shrugged and focused on inhaling soup like a drowning man with air.

“If your name’s…you know…” Hyrule hazarded. “Does that mean…do you know if you’re one of the…” He tapped the back of his left hand, wary of saying it out loud.

The newly dubbed Wild was uncomprehending. Hyrule gave up on subtlety. “A holder of Courage,” he whispered. “Are you one of the Chosen to wield the Triforce?”

At this, Wild scrutinized his own hand as if it would hold the answer. When he looked back to Hyrule, then Twilight, he still seemed equally lost.

“By the Three,” Twilight sighed, “how long have you been out here on your own? Are you saying you don’t know what any of that means?”

Wild’s expression went distant. “…not…sure,” he said at length, quiet.

“Well,” Twilight settled at an angle away from the rest of the camp with one last paranoid look, keeping his voice low to avoid attention. With the flickering fire over his shoulder, his face fell into shadow. “I’ll give you the rundown and you can see if any of this sounds familiar.”

As he spoke, he fell into the cadence of a story. “According to the stories, long, long ago, in the ancient time before history began, the goddess Hylia battled her enemy Demise, the chaos-bringer. Demise was a great, hungry beast with a hatred for the world and all Hylia’s people, and though she fought for many ages he couldn’t be killed.”

Hyrule pulled his knees close to listen. He’d heard enough bits and pieces of the story to give him the sketch of what he needed to know, but he’d never heard it in full. And he’d never heard it told like this before either—like a worn and sculpted legend of a sweeping, mythical struggle, passed down around a fire like this through generations.

“For every move she made,” Twilight said, “Demise was on her heels, and Hylia grew sorrowful of how her kingdom suffered for it. And so, in secret, she devised a new plan. From her people, Hylia chose a wise princess to be born as her vessel, so that she might walk among them and be hidden from Demise’s eyes. As she did, though she meant to go alone, the stories say she fell in love with a mortal—a knight, the first Hero of Courage, who determined to help her in any way he could. With the help of her magic, he took up arms against Demise and forced him to duel on the mortal plane. In so doing, he and the princess managed to bind the Beast into a mortal form. Demise was outraged. As revenge, he cursed the three of them into an eternal cycle, reborn again and again into the war against his wrath until the end of time.”

Hyrule’s blood quickened as the story went on. Hearing it told this way was so different from what he’d known before. All his life so far, being born as a holder of Courage, he’d been cursed; he was plagued with cryptic visions in his dreams, doomed to a lonely life without a home, marked to be hunted by agents of Ganon no matter where he went. This story, though, the way Twilight told it—it sounded noble. Like there could be a purpose. Like he’d been given a gift that could be used for something good.

Wild was listening too, just as enraptured. The vulnerable hope building hidden behind his tangled hair mirrored Hyrule’s own.

“Usually,” Twilight explained, a sadness stealing across his face, “the stories tell about a hero and a princess born into an age when they’re needed, where they fight against Demise—who became Ganon, who’s sometimes Ganondorf—and seal him back away for a while. And he breaks out again, but a new hero and princess are always chosen to keep him back. But right now, this time…this time’s different.”

Hyrule knew this part. Everyone did, though it was only spoken of behind closed doors. Their Emperor was on a stolen throne, taken by blood and suffering from its rightful holders. His laws told them everything from before was to be burned away and forgotten, but the people remembered their Princess still. They mourned her and kept her memory alive in secret.

Twilight went quiet, and Hyrule’s mind suddenly returned to the Koroks’ words back in the Lost Woods. Before the Emperor took over, Hyrule had heard it wasn’t so uncommon to have the name Link—only one in an era would be an actual chosen hero, there used to be scores of everyday people with the same name. He had no idea if Twilight’s father, who the Koroks called Link, had been born in that time.

But he did know Malon had said their family was no friends to the Empire.

 _Finish what your dad started,_ she’d said.

Twilight was roused from getting lost in his own thoughts by a poke from Wild. The unkempt boy’s eyes darted between him and Hyrule, fearful and questioning.

Twilight cleared his throat heavily, gathering himself together. “The…when the Emperor took over, it was because the last Hero and Princess failed.” Twilight took a shaky breath. “He killed them. Another two were chosen and sent to try to stop him, but it was too late. By that point he was too powerful and he…well…they couldn’t defeat him either. It’s gotten bad enough now that Hylia did something she’s never done before. She sent a message saying she had chosen _nine_ heroes and princesses, all in one era.”

Twilight gave a dry snort. “And _His Illustrious Eminence_ must be spittin’ mad about it, because dang if he hasn’t done everything he can to find them and get ‘em killed.”

“So…” Hyrule summed up, watching Wild, “that’s what we’re asking. Me and Twilight are two of the heroes. And we think you could be one too.”

Wild continued to examine his hand, his expression troubled and dark. Of all things, he looked up to the moon as if hoping for some kind of answer.

“Can I…” Hyrule had an idea and reached out, pausing to ask for permission. “Can I try to look at your hand with my magic? I might be able to see if you have a piece of the Triforce.”

Wild tensed, but he nodded. Rigidly, he held out his left hand and let Hyrule take it in both of his. It was dirty and calloused as the rest of him, Hyrule noticed as he peered close and wondered how to call up his magical sight at will. He’d never really tried to do it _intentionally_ before.

It turned out, he didn’t need to worry. Moments after his palm touched Wild’s, he could feel a warm, pulsing connection flare between them like a heartbeat and could swear he saw a tiny golden spark in the space between their hands. The image of the Triforce flared, gentle as sunlight and shimmering beneath his skin.

Hyrule looked up and saw Wild and Twilight both watching him in awe. “What?” He ducked his head, suddenly self-conscious.

“Gold.” Said Wild. He was staring at Hyrule’s eyes with his own blown wide.

“Yeah,” Twilight agreed.

Hyrule brushed his fingers against his face. He glanced around until he found his reflection in Twilight’s sword, lying by his side. A flicker of golden light blinked back at him just in time for him to see it slowly fading from his own irises.

“So,” said Twilight, “is he one of us?”

Hyrule felt a soft smile tug at the corner of his mouth, happy but bittersweet and sorry for what it meant. “He is.”

* * *

Four’s new forge was _huge_.

The cramped little half of a castle town house he was confined to before—and the houses weren’t big to start out with—could probably fit into the forge he had now at least ten times over. Even the forge his grandpa used to have was dwarfed by this one. The minute he was left alone, Four acted on his building urge to rifle and search through every nook and cranny of the new workspace, finding barely-used tools of the highest quality waiting for him.

He pulled open a little door and was shocked to find a room. It had a real, free-standing bed and even a trunk at the end of it with a whole kerosene lantern sitting on top. In his old forge, he’d slept on a pallet that he dragged under his table for the illusion of extra safety. Now he had a _room_ with a _door_.

Granted, the lantern was probably there because his new home for the foreseeable future was essentially a stone box somewhere in the depths of the castle with no windows, but it was still an improvement. He guessed.

A familiar, insatiable restlessness was already beginning to burn down his spine, itching under his skin. Could he really risk it so soon, when he’d barely been here and left alone for three minutes? He felt like his insides were already straining in four directions, wrestling between freedom and secrecy.

The decision was made for him when Red burst out sprawling to the floor and shrieking “It’ll be fine, Green can stand lookout and he’ll tell us if someone is coming, let me explore _I wanna jump on the bed—”_

“This is a bad idea,” Vio intoned as he leaned back against rough stone wall, cold seeping through his tunic.

“A LITTLE LOUDER RED,” Blue bellowed sarcastically, “MAYBE SOMEONE IN HYRULE FIELD DIDN’T HEAR YOU!”

Green smacked an exhausted hand over Blue’s mouth. “You’re being a huge hypocrite, cut it out. Red, keep it down, okay? And can you shut the doors?”

Red obediently skimmed by the doors at top speed and slapped them shut, which would hopefully muffle at least some of the noise.

“I’m free!” He exclaimed at a slightly lesser volume, his arms thrown out wide like birds’ wings. “I can run in here! Do you know how long it’s been since I could run!? Hey Blue, wanna race?”

“Please, I’d kick your—”

“Hey, did anybody see what happened to those Minish who were following us?” Green cut in strategically.

Red screeched to a halt. His hands flew up to cover his mouth as memories came rushing in. “Are they okay? Oh, goddess, the way they ran off and distracted Vaati was so scary. I thought he was gonna hurt them—I thought—I thought he w-was gonna hurt _us—"_

Tears welled up from his eyes as his breath hitched. Green pulled him into a hug, holding Red tight and hoping he couldn’t feel the slight tremor in his arms. “It’s okay. We’re all safe. We have the sword, he still doesn’t know about it, and we all made it out safe. Even the Minish.”

It was telling that, although Blue scowled, he dropped a hand roughly on Red’s head and let it sit there, glaring at a spot on the wall. When Vio thought no one was looking, he snagged quiet fingers on the back of Green’s tunic.

For a moment, they stayed there pressed together around Red, letting him cry. Letting their terror lie between them, unsaid. They had so suddenly come so close to losing the Four Sword, and now what little sense of normalcy they still had was gone, their situation turned dangerous and unknown.

“This forge is hardly touched,” Vio breathed, quiet enough for only Green to hear. “Whoever’s had this job before…”

He let the rest of the thought hang, but Green could finish it well enough. Anyone who’d had this job before clearly hadn’t lasted very long. There wouldn’t be much tolerance for mistakes here.

To all of them, Green said, “It’s gonna be okay. We have each other, and whatever happens, we can figure it out together.”

He carded his fingers through Red’s hair, grateful for the tapping of Vio’s fingertips against his back. Since Four had been separated from his grandpa, trapped in the Emperor’s forges isolated and alone, the four of them had come to rely on each other for physical contact. Even Vio, who usually opted out of anything resembling a hug, had caved eventually.

 _“Tall-friends?”_ A little voice piped up.

Red launched himself out of his brothers’ embrace. _“Kel! You’re okay!”_ Green grinned. Red was always the only one who could manage to keep up with all the names of their little friends. His own relief rose to match.

 _“How’s Tenmari?”_ Red flopped onto his belly to meet the Minish poking her head out of a crack in the wall, chin in his hands. _“Was he the one with Vaati?”_

 _“Of course I was!”_ The Minish in question shoved his way out to present himself, little arms flexing. _“I’m the fastest there is. Tenmari the fleet-foot! The wind-runner! Quickest of all the Minish! No one can catch me, not even the Traitor himself. Poison-bringer,”_ he punctuated by spitting on the floor.

 _“I knew it!”_ Red used a careful index finger to ruffle Tenmari’s fur. The Minish groused and hurried to flatten it back down into the artful fluff he cultivated.

 _“All safe, then?”_ Blue crossed his arms, doing his best impression of someone who didn’t particularly care either way.

 _“Yes, Blue,”_ Kel softened. _“All safe and counted.”_ Though she was all of about the size of Blue’s palm (without her hat), in Minish ages, Kel was older than them. She made it no secret that she took it as her sacred responsibility to dote on them as an enthusiastic and beloved aunt.

Vio knelt down to sit on the floor. _“You all came a long way to get here. No one saw you, did they?”_

 _“No,”_ Tenmari thrust out his chest. _“The Big People are too slow and too blind. And dumb. They never see Minish.”_

Blue was a lot less careful at knocking the back of Tenmari’s head with a knuckle. _“Hey, I take offense at that.”_

Tenmari ducked down and covered his head, shouting, _“You should!”_ He backed away out of reach as he did, though, hands held protectively over his hair.

 _“We did it for a reason.”_ Another Minish spoke up. _“We wanted to come. We’re staying with you.”_

 _“You…?”_ Green looked over the group. About eight or ten Minish huddled out from the crack in the wall, grimly determined. His eyes misted as he was bowled over with gratitude.

Beside him, Red wailed and buried his face in his hands. _“You mean it? You’re going to come and stay with us here in the new forge?”_

 _“Yes.”_ Kel’s black eyes twinkled and she put two hands on Red’s knee. _“The Castle Town Minish owe you our lives. Your warning saved us from the poison, and you make broken traps for the Traitor. You are our Tall-Friend, Hero of the Minish. We can spare a few of us to help you.”_

Red sniffed, running a fingertip over the fine fur of her ears. _“You’re our heroes too. We’d be alone without you.”_

Blue made an unsubtle gagging noise but got the particular uncomfortable look that meant he was trying to make everyone forget that he and Red were roughly the same person and shared the same thoughts. Vio patted his leg in mock sympathy and twitched with the effort not to laugh.

 _“We should probably get to work soon,”_ Vio said, pushing himself up from the ground and clapping the dirt off of his hands. Too much emotional vulnerability made him itchy. “Let’s see what we can do for this champion guy.”

 _“Tell us what to do!”_ Kel put out her hands. _“We will help you however we can.”_

“Hmm…” Vio scratched his cheek. _“Who has the best eyes and ears?”_ After a quick but furious argument with Tenmari, another Minish raised her hand high. _“Okay,”_ Vio directed, _“you and Tenmari keep lookout. Tenmari,”_ he warned, _“I’m trusting you as my scout. That means you have to be quiet, and you have to be ready to warn us if someone’s coming.”_

 _“I will watch him!”_ Tenmari’s new partner promised. She dragged him off before he could protest.

Vio directed the rest of the Minish, dividing them between the forge and keeping watch. In the meantime, Red got busy hunting down some charcoal and paper to doodle ‘cool sword ideas’ while Blue got busy stoking the fire.

Green found the small sheaf of details he’d been given, chewing his tongue. “Huh,” he murmured out loud.

“’Huh?’” Vio repeated. He came up beside Green to look over his shoulder at the papers.

“It’s just…normal.” Green shrugged. “The measurements, I mean. I don’t know what I expected. Like, the Emperor’s Champion is a tall guy, sure, but…just a guy. A regular-sized Hylian man, for all the stuff people say about him.”

“A regular-sized Hylian man without any very specific requests,” Vio frowned. He pulled the papers out to spread them over the table. That was another nice thing about their new forge—a much bigger workspace. “All the items on here are outside requests from higher-ups. None of it looks like it’s actually from him.”

Green tapped a finger over the order form, puzzled. “Guess he’s not overly concerned with aesthetics.”

“What?” Red drooped over his page of concept doodles, devastated.

“Don’t worry, Red,” Vio reassured him, “we still have plenty on here to work wi—"

 _“HIDE! HURRY, BIG PEOPLE ARE COMING!”_ The Minish scattered in the blink of an eye and Blue dropped the bellows he was holding with a crash, swearing.

“The sword—” Green shoved past Vio to search, “—the sword, where is it?”

“I don’t—new forge, it’s somewhere different, where did we put—” Vio fought off a panic attack, his breath knotting in his throat and threatening to choke him.

“They’re gonna find us…” Red swiped tears out of his eyes to help look.

“Here!” Blue held the sword aloft and the four of them converged on it like a homing beacon.

“…should be empty,” someone was saying, “the last blacksmith who worked here was just fired, so there shouldn’t be anyone…”

Four reformed to dread pooling deep in his stomach as a woman with a basket and a girl in fine clothes pushed through the door, stopping in their tracks just in time to see his four parts combine as one.

\---

“…in…here…” the girl who had introduced herself as Dawn trailed off. A long, heavy moment stretched on as she, Malon, and the boy holding the sword stared at each other dumbly.

“…good afternoon,” the boy greeted them casually. He started to bow, then took another look at Dawn’s nice clothes and bowed deeper. “Is there…anything I can help you with…my lady…s?” The last part came out uncertain and nervously high.

“There were four of you,” Dawn said, confirming that Malon hadn’t briefly hallucinated.

“…I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.”

“Don’t lie. There were four of you. What magic is this?”

The boy swallowed hard and backed away. He slid his sword behind his back until he reached a barrel to drop it into. “I don’t know any magic, my lady. Not unless someone gives me an enchantment to add to a weapon. Do you have a request?”

“I request that you tell me about your magic.” For every step he took away, Dawn took one closer. The poor kid’s height didn’t even clear Malon’s shoulders and Dawn towered over him. His hands balled up and started to shake subtly and Malon decided that was enough of that.

“Oh, leave that boy alone!” She tugged at one of Dawn’s golden ornaments. “Look at ‘im, you’re scarin’ the poor thing. How’s this, kiddo, we can make a deal.”

She addressed the boy and briefly wondered if she was being too bold to boss around and speak for a princess. She then decided she was already in handcuffs and hadn’t gotten this far using proper manners, so there was no point in backing down now.

“Secret for a secret,” Malon proposed. “We don’t tell anyone about you havin’ secret quadruplets and you don’t tell anyone we came in here to bust these off.” She held up her handcuffs for inspection.

The boy’s gaze latched onto her like a lifeline. He eyed the handcuffs, visibly shut down any questions, and said, “Deal!” He snatched up a hammer without giving Dawn the chance to disagree.

“No, no deal!” Dawn spun around. “What are you doing in this forge? The weaponsmith here was just fired.”

“I’m the lucky new hire!” The boy gave nervous jazz hands and kept his anvil between him and Dawn, eyeing her anxiously. “Turnaround is quick here.” He pulled out a few tools and laid them across the anvil, rubbing his palms together and shifting from foot to foot.

He gave Dawn another glance, his fingers twisting. Her stormy expression must have been discouraging, because he ducked behind his choppy, soot-stained hair. “Please don’t tell anyone,” he whispered toward his feet. “They’ll kill us.”

Dawn sighed, running a hand over her mouth.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” she reassured him, exasperated. Malon spied a twinge of guilt in her tone. “I just wanted to know what it is. If it could be…” she gritted her teeth but seemed to resign herself. “Helpful. To us.”

For a moment, Malon was bewildered and wondered if Dawn was referring to the two of them. She didn’t see how four people could bust off a pair of handcuffs any easier than one.

Comprehension dawned, though, slow and creeping across the boy’s face. He gaped at her gown and golden livery as if seeing them for the first time—he probably was, considering his panic earlier.

“Us…?” For the first time, his fear was replaced with a flicker of wonder. “Are you…do you mean…the Princesses? They’re real? Are you…a princess?”

Dawn pressed her lips together. “Not that it means much these days; but yes. What few of us the Emperor has found are here, captured and confined to this cursed castle. But alive. And I am one of them.”

Malon was still reeling, herself. The foretold Princesses, alive, real, and here in this palace. How had they managed to survive in the Emperor’s captivity? Were they all here, or…were there some still out there in the world, walking free?

“I…Your Highness.” He sank to one knee with his head bowed, forging tools forgotten.

Dawn barked a bitter laugh, but her eyes glistened. “No one has called me that in a long time. You are a strange little forge, aren’t you?” When he didn’t answer, she cleared her throat, her voice suspiciously thick. “Don’t worry about that, now. We really do need these handcuffs off.”

“Of course.” He gathered up his tools and gestured to Malon. “Ah,” he paused. “If we’re already keeping secrets, it’s probably easier if I just get them off this way.”

Sheepishly, he dug around in one of his threadbare boots and fished out one thick and one thin tool, sliding them into the locking mechanism.

“You can pick locks?” Malon was impressed. And made a mental note to begin her one-woman hunt for a very thick pair of socks for this boy and his holey boots. Or completely new shoes, while she was at it.

“If anyone asks,” he gave a lopsided grin, “it’s so I can test out any locks I might make.”

In a few minutes, he gave the shackles a careful whack with the heel of his hand, mindful of Malon’s wrists. They creaked right open.

Malon shook out her hands and reveled in her newfound freedom. “Thank you, darlin’. I owe you one.”

“It’s no trouble, really. Especially…” He peeked at the princess out of the corner of his eye, his lingering intimidation overcome by awe.

“Um,” he continued, apparently still nervous of making full eye contact with Dawn, “about the sword; I made it. Me and my grandpa, I mean.” He squared his shoulders with pride. “He’s the best blacksmith there is, and there’s not another sword like it anywhere. It’s enchanted against monsters, and it gives whoever wields it the power to split themselves into four. It’s where I get my name. Four,” he introduced himself, giving her another bow.

He bowed his head to Malon as well and she put a hand to her heart, touched. “Well aren’t you a _gentleman.”_ She gave in to the temptation to ruffle his hair and absolutely, distinctly noticed how he leaned into her touch.

With effort, she managed to tamp down the aggressive surge of motherly impulse she had to crush this small young man into a hug and never let go. “I’ll be back here to visit you,” she announced, leaving no room for argument. “You and I are gonna be friends, Mister Four.”

“Back to visit?” Dawn echoed, bewildered.

“You said there’s princesses here?” Malon felt for the Zora dagger, reassuring herself that it was still tucked into her boot, and planted her hands on her hips. “I can’t stick around forever. But if I’m already here, I intend to give y’all a helpin’ hand.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Hyrule was right. Four meets the Emperor's Champion.


	6. Rabbits and Snares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyrule was right. Four meets the Emperor's Champion.

_A rabbit, silhouetted flickering orange against the black sky. Sickles carving through grass. Running, running, running with the rabbit through the heather. The tents of the camp were held up by bones hidden under their dyed canvas, bleached white peeking out at the corners. The woman with the dark braid had a mark over her eye, like a red tear falling upwards, three red points underneath like eyelashes._

_Running, running, running with the rabbit through the heather. A snare fell from behind, cast by a horde with inverted red eyes, teardrops falling upward, three red points underneath like eyelashes—_

Hyrule gasped awake and dove out of the way of a curved sickle arcing down toward his head.

“Twi—” a gloved hand closed over his mouth. He kicked and writhed, throwing back an elbow. A hulking figure with a long sword loomed over the blanket they’d leant to Wild. Hyrule struggled harder.

The figure reeled back and buried his sword deep into the lump of blankets. Hyrule screamed, muffled by the hand.

The figure wore a mask covering his face—white with an inverted red eye—but his posture showed confusion. His sword stuck, and he jerked it back.

The blanket fell away and the sword came out with a thick, gnarled log speared on its end.

A series of sharp clangs rang out, one after the other. The man with the sword reeled back, a masked figure with a sickle fell away from Twilight’s bedroll—Hyrule flinched as an arrow missed his face by millimeters and thunked against the mask of the figure holding him with concussive force.

Hyrule took the chance he was given and dropped out of his captor’s arms into a roll, sand sliding into his hair and down the back of his tunic.

As Hyrule came upright again, drawing his dagger, the source of the arrows appeared. Wild dropped down from the sky holding a paraglider, panting for breath.

“Twilight!” Hyrule didn’t waste any more time. “Wake up, we need to go!”

He snatched up the first bag he could see, the small leather satchel he used to keep his few personal belongings. Masked fighters were converging on Wild and he was moving slow. Too slow. His exhaustion kept him from dodging a sickle that scored his shoulder, barely missing his neck and slicing open his sleeve.

Hyrule planted himself and his tiny dagger at Wild’s back. “Wild, run!” Wild stumbled, holding his shoulder and still struggling to catch his breath. He scooped up a branch from the ground and managed to catch the edge of another sickle, keeping it from impaling him.

Their attackers had ringed them in and began to creep closer. Hyrule ducked from a swipe at his head, then barely avoided losing a foot to another enormous blade. His ankle caught while dodging it and he skidded to the ground, tasting blood.

Wild’s foot snaked out and shoved Hyrule’s prone form to one side. The huge sword barely glanced against his back as he rolled.

“Ha!” A harsh, gleeful noise sounded from Wild’s direction. As a burst of red smoke whipped at his long, tangled hair, he emerged from the cloud holding a stolen sickle aloft triumphantly.

“Heads up!” Twilight called from somewhere outside the circle of attackers. A sizable chunk of flaming log from their fire came sailing over their heads and took out a pair of masked figures on impact. They fell into a patch of dead bushes that started to smolder.

Wild held out a hand to heave Hyrule up, impish glee dancing in his eyes. The minute Hyrule was steady on his feet, Wild bolted through the opening left by Twilight’s projectile. Without hesitation, he _buried his hands in the campfire_ —prompting an alarmed yelp from Twilight, who was occupied with one of the swordsmen—and brought out a branch with a wide fan of flames blazing in the night.

With a raucous, full-lunged cackle, Wild disappeared into the tall, dry grass and left a swath of fire in his wake.

“He’s crazy. He’s crazy!” Twilight kicked back the swordsman and knocked away his blade, sending it spinning out into the dark somewhere. “He saved our lives, but _Farore and Farosh, who is this kid…”_

A steady, groaning roar began to build up around them as wildfire ate at the plains. Smoke choked out the sky, washing over the stars, obscuring the figures in red.

“I think this is our way out!” Hyrule shouted. He tugged Twilight out into the rustling chaos, none of their attackers any the wiser. Twilight pushed his head down under the tips of the rustling, tangled grass and together they ran, crouching, eyes peeled for pursuers.

“You were right,” Twilight said lowly. “That guy steered us right into a trap.”

“Hey,” Hyrule wheezed, “at least it wasn’t all bad. We found—”

As if summoned, Wild dropped from the sky at their side and nearly got stabbed for his trouble.

Hyrule swore, a hand over his thundering heart. “Don’t _do_ that!”

“You coming with?” Twilight asked, as if he didn’t also have his sword halfway out of its scabbard at Wild’s sudden appearance. “Just like that?”

Wild nodded. If he had anything else to say about it, he kept it to himself.

“I guess we’re gonna have to make for the river,” Twilight chewed his lip, hunkered down in place. He took one more glance at the camp and tongues of flame rolling over the surrounding hills. “I hope there weren’t any innocent refugees caught up in there.”

“Yiga.”

Hyrule and Twilight turned to Wild. His hands were fisted in his sleeves, arms curled around himself. “Them,” he tilted his head to point to the camp behind them. “They’re the Yiga. They…” He chewed on the words, churning through them with clear effort and concentration. “…always…lie.” He waved some fingers over his face, maybe to mime a mask.

Some small measure of relief settled on Twilight. “Guess that makes me feel a little bit better…”

Gentle and tugging, like the current of a river, Hyrule felt his attention drawn toward the skyline. A little ways away, the ground pitched upward into a ridge of rocky sand. Dry bushes scratched their pointed fingers on the sky and flickered faintly with the light of the fire.

A rabbit was silhouetted there, watching Hyrule and flickering orange against the black sky.

“We need to go that way,” he interrupted the others. He pointed toward the rabbit.

“Uh…” Twilight squinted off toward the hill. “Any…reason…in particular?”

“I had a dream. It told me to follow the rabbit.” A buried memory nagged at the back of his mind, something about a snare and running. “Quickly, I think.”

Wild stared at Hyrule openly. Twilight glanced between him and the hill.

“I…don’t…see a rabbit,” Twilight began carefully, “but. Considering how your dreams have gone so far, and how this last place turned out…lead the way, I suppose.” He swept out a hand.

Hyrule started creeping toward the rabbit, slowly at first. Then its ears pricked up, flicked, and it bolted.

“Ah—okay, run!” Hyrule scrambled to his feet and started to sprint. Twilight stumbled after him—

And Wild yelped, tumbling as something heavy kicked up clouds of sand.

“Wild!” Hyrule searched for the rabbit. They were losing it.

The grasslands trembled with shadows gaining ground. Wild flailed against a chain-link net tangling his arms and legs, heavy metal balls weighting the corners. _A snare, falling from behind._ Twilight frantically dug for the edges and tried to untangle it.

Hyrule made his choice. He dropped to his knees and started tugging at the net.

“Stop moving,” Twilight urged, strained, “you’re making it worse!” Still, Wild scrabbled, the whites of his eyes blown wide in fear. “It’s okay—Wild, we’re gonna get you out. Hold on, we’re gonna get you out.”

“Here—here!” Hyrule found a corner, sliding his fingers along to the edge. The links were sloppily wielded and left sharp seams that scratched at his hands. He lifted the edge up high as the Yiga closed in and Wild flew through the opening, nearly knocking Hyrule down.

“This way!” Hyrule leapt up and twisted around an arrow, waving the other two in the direction he saw the rabbit disappear. His heart climbed into his throat, _come on, come on, where did you go…_

He saw it. The rabbit appeared on another ridge and Hyrule called to the others to follow.

Clouds of scratchy heather whipped at their faces and closed around them, filling the air with their woody scent. The rabbit flitted in and out of sight as they crossed clearings and dug through denser patches. Hyrule’s lungs begged for air and he checked to make sure the others were still behind him. They pressed on.

For what seemed like half the night, they went on that way, tripping between walking on burning legs and pushing themselves into a run. Always, the ghost of pursuers rustled behind them in Hyrule’s imagination and pricked at his ears. This, he thought, must be how the rabbit felt, and he sympathized. His pulse refused to settle.

“Are you okay?” He heard Twilight murmuring to Wild at one point. “That cut on your shoulder looks nasty, and you’re scratched up pretty good. You sure you can…?”

Tired, Wild put a hand on his face and lightly pushed him away. 

Gradually, the landscape around them began to change. The rabbit began to appear over rockier ridges, then to flit through copses of trees. The sand faded away under their feet, turning to hard, packed dirt and pebbles. They crossed over a few fences, and at one point, dozing and startling awake, Hyrule was sure he heard water.

Sometime after the sky closed over with a towering, dark roof of leaves and the whistling wind turned to cicadas undercut with the croaks of frogs, Hyrule lurched to a stop.

Twilight and Wild blinked at him blearily. He cast around through the forest, searching the roots and shadows waving just out of sight.

“It’s gone.” Hyrule’s hands hung at his sides, too tired to feel anything about it. “I guess either we lost it or we’re here, one of the two.”

Twilight’s lolled his head back to scan the dark roof of the forest. “Where’s here?”

Wild evidently found this a much less pressing question and contented himself with falling to the ground, curling into a little ball with his head pillowed on his quiver of arrows. Within seconds, he was breathing deep and even with a slight rasp, mouth hanging open.

Twilight gave an impressed whistle. “Works for me.” He patted himself down drowsily and slumped. “Lost my bedroll. Curse the Ganon-lovin’…” he slurred the rest of his thought while cuddling up to a tree root and quickly following Wild’s lead.

Hyrule found himself too exhausted to come up with anything else to do. His legs were numb from running and cried out in relief when he finally collapsed against the trunk of the tree. He could only hope that, wherever they were, his dream had pointed them here for a reason.

Come morning, they really should get a look at Wild’s shoulder…

The rest was lost as sleep claimed him. Blurred and unsure if he was awake or still dreaming, the last thing Hyrule saw was a nobleman’s flag flapping in the distance, the emblem of a pink rabbit clear in the moonlight.

* * *

Four rocked back on his heels and wished again for a moment that he hadn’t sent the Minish away. He could use some kind of warning—or at least some company.

It was the right decision to make, he knew. It was too dangerous for them to be here this morning, even if they were in hiding. People said the Emperor’s Champion could hear a bird’s wing flying over Death Mountain and that his eyes could see through walls.

But, then again, they also said he was taller than a full-grown Zora and sometimes that he had horns, neither of which were in his measurements, so. Four supposed he’d take that with a grain of salt.

They said he could read minds and see a swordsman’s intentions before he ever swung. Four prayed that part wasn’t true either. His thoughts would get him hanged as traitor for sure.

The sword he’d slaved over sat gleaming on his worktable. Specifications had asked for hand-and-a-half blade—usable with either one hand or two, depending on the situation—and for the Emperor’s three captive dragons. He only had drawings to go off of, but Four was proud of his result. Farosh, Dinraal, and Naydra twisted together at the sword’s hilt, their claws splayed at its crossguard. Together, they breathed a design of angular, geometric fire down the blade inlaid with hair-thin golden threads.

Four had tested and adjusted it again and again, mouth dry every time he found the tiniest flaw. As far as he could tell, the weight and balance were perfect, not a single fault in its shape.

Heavy, measured footsteps sounded in the hall with the clank of armor. Four’s pulse beat a tattoo against the inside of his throat.

And then he was there. The Emperor’s Champion.

The Oni.

He was both less and so much more terrifying than Four was expecting. There were no horns, no pointed teeth; he didn’t tower at eight feet high and wasn’t dripping with the blood of rebels, fresh from the Emperor’s arena.

He looked like nothing so much as a ghost. Matted hair tangled over his shoulders and fell in uneven clumps over his face, his tarnished, bronze armor of some ancient make giving him the impression of a primeval soldier. His face was scored with red stripes under his eyes and a pointed, blue ‘V’ shape on his forehead.

Most unsettling of all were his eyes. Four could see where the rumor started about him being able to see through walls and into minds. They glowed with a flat, white light and had no clear pupils or irises. They looked empty. Almost like there was no one behind them at all.

Four suppressed a shudder.

Silently, the Oni scanned the forge. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he scanned it again. His chin tipped down and, finally, he found Four. No expression crossed his face.

Four sucked in a ragged breath and stubbornly didn’t jump. “I…finished your sword. Sir. Here it is.” He scooped up the sword in its oiled, protective wrappings and held it out. He bowed his head, both out of respect and as an excuse to avoid the Oni’s vacant gaze.

For a long time, too long, the Oni did nothing. He simply stared at Four. Four felt a fine tremor start in his body and prayed it wasn’t obvious.

Then, with measured steps, the Oni crossed the space between them. He lifted the sword from Four’s hands and took it.

Four glanced back up, not sure if he should speak. He nearly stopped breathing altogether when he found the Oni still looking at him rather than the sword. This was it. He didn’t like it. Four was going to die.

The Oni picked up the scabbard laying on Four’s worktable and sheathed the sword. Then he turned, slung it over his shoulder in a smooth, precise motion, and left.

It was a long time afterward before Four was able to unlock his shaking knees and move again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Hyrule, Twilight, and Wild make an impression on the local nobility. Warriors meets some suspicious individuals.


	7. A Good Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyrule, Twilight, and Wild make an impression on the local nobility. Warriors meets some suspicious individuals.

_Shadows danced between the trunks of the trees, figures flitting silent and shifting. Horse hooves beat, riding gear and tack clinking and echoing._

_A man was fiddling with the brace on his arm as someone talked in front of him. He tugged at the ties binding the hardened leather, digging into the wool padded underneath. From inside, he drew out a long, thin reed and something metal that glinted._

_The man drew the tube up to his lips, loaded it, and took aim._

_One red eye glinted bright._

Hyrule snapped awake. The ground barely trembled with the distant impression of horses’ hooves.

 _“Twilight! Twilight, wake up!”_ He rolled onto his stomach and shoved Twilight’s shoulder, whispering as loud as he dared. _“Wild! Hey, wake up! Someone’s coming this way.”_

The second he touched Wild’s shoulder, the boy was wide awake and rolling to his feet, ready for combat. After a few seconds of processing what was happening, he slid his bowstring back over his chest and disappeared up the tree into the branches above them.

Twilight, in the meantime, was still squinting at the place Wild had been moments ago. He scrubbed at his eyes and let his head fall back. “Wuhszumnin?”

 _“Someone is coming,”_ Hyrule emphasized.

“Um…okay…alr—okay…” With an air of great suffering, Twilight managed to yawn and leverage himself into a sitting position leaning against the trunk of the tree _._ “Bad guys?”

Hyrule crouched low in the underbrush. “Don’t know. Watch out for…um…” he strained for the memory of the dream. “A…reed? Tube? Dart, maybe?”

“Okhay,” Twilight mumbled agreeably.

The source of the hoofbeats was upon them. Where Hyrule hadn’t been able to see it in the night, the slanted light of morning showed a dirt riding path pitted with wagon tracks and hoofprints about a stone’s throw away from their hiding place. A party of riders on horseback was making its way down that path now.

They moved by at an agonizingly slow pace—though Hyrule could make out the heavy breathing of the horses, showing that they had been moving faster, it was just his luck the group seemed to be slowing to give their rides a rest. It gave him and his hidden companions plenty of time to get a good look and try to put together just who these people were.

Two were clearly guards of some kind. A man and woman in leather armor kept careful watch, armed with spears that trailed some kind of banner or standard. Judging by his clothes, Hyrule would guess the third hovering behind was some kind of page or errand boy.

In the center of the group, a boy in richer clothes was sliding from his horse’s saddle, taking its reins in one hand. Between the clothes, the pennants decorating his horse, and the presence of the guards, Hyrule concluded that he must be some kind of noble.

Sure enough, the wind shifted and caught in the guards’ banners, unfurling them to reveal the symbol of the pink rabbit. It was the same as the flag he’d seen earlier.

In his dreams and all throughout the night, Hyrule had chased a rabbit that led him here. Was it a sign?

The nobleman wandered closer, stretching out his arms and gazing through the trees. Hyrule held his breath, sure they were about to be caught. From this distance, Hyrule could make out a pink streak framing one side of his face, like his hair had been dipped in paint.

“If this is a robbery,” the pink-haired boy said, casual as if he was discussing the weather, “I don’t know what you have to gain by waiting. You don’t really have the element of surprise.”

Hyrule choked. Was he talking to them?!

“Well?” The boy’s hand went to the hilt of a sword at his side. “Which one’s it gonna be? Are you bandits, or just trespassing?”

He was looking right at Hyrule. Heart pounding, Hyrule stood and put his hands in the air.

“Both of you, if you don’t mind.” The boy directed this to the tree where Twilight was still hidden. Obediently, Twilight revealed himself as well, tense with his hand on his own sword. “And I’d like to meet that third guy as well.”

“We don’t know where he is,” Hyrule said, truthfully. “He just kinda ran off.”

He didn’t think the nobleman believed them. Either way, he snorted and shrugged it off. “Fine. Guess he bailed. No honor among thieves these days.”

“We’re not thieves,” Twilight cut in. “We’re just travelers passing through. If you let us go on our way, you won’t have to see or hear from us ever again.”

While he was talking, the two guards had caught onto what was happening and flanked the young nobleman, spears at the ready. The page—or whatever he was—hovered anxiously on his horse from a distance.

One of the guards leaned in to whisper something in the noble’s ear. “Yeah, I know,” he said. To Twilight and Hyrule, he directed, “We have a little bit of a problem with folks in this area not really being ‘just travelers,’ if you get what I mean. Sorry if I’m not exactly quick to take your word for it.”

“In this area…” Hyrule thought out loud. “You mean, because of the Yiga?”

The effect of the name was instantaneous. The boy readied his sword, though he still didn’t draw it yet, and his guards tightened their grips on their spears. “Right in one,” he said stiffly.

“We’re not—you’re enemies of the Yiga?” Twilight stumbled over the words in his hurry to get them out. “We are too—we came this way running from them, they tried to kill us—”

“Enemies of the Yiga?” One of the guards, the female one, finally spoke up. She eyed them with suspicion and shared a look with her partner. “In what way?” The page turned and started digging for something in his saddlebag.

“Well…uh…” Twilight flexed his fingers nervously, hands still held up over his head. “W—we just, you know, they thought we were someone…I mean…”

Palming something in one hand, the page used the other to toy with the buckles on his arm. He undid the ties binding the hardened leather, exposing packed wool underneath. Hyrule jolted with panic.

The page drew out a long, thin tube and loaded it with a feathered dart, taking aim.

 _“Down!”_ Hyrule yelped and tackled the nobleman. He thanked the goddesses when Twilight followed suit and dropped into the grass. Where the pink-haired boy’s back had been, the dart instead thudded deep into the trunk of the tree Hyrule and Twilight had been hiding behind.

“What the—?” With lightning speed, the pink-haired boy pulled away from Hyrule, spotted the dart, and tracked it to the page, who was drawing a sickle hidden in the folds of his clothes and launching himself from his saddle.

One of the guards staggered as an arrow sprouted from his leather breastplate. Hyrule craned his neck to look for a source, but the other guard was already moving—and stabbing down at where Twilight lay prone on the ground. Hyrule threw himself at her legs and managed to knock her off-balance just enough for the spear’s head to graze under Twilight’s ribs, rather than skewering him through the chest.

“What are you doing?” The young nobleman was on his feet, sword drawn as he shouted at his guards. “Did you not see the stablehand just try to _kill_ me? What kind of guards even…are…?”

The guard who was now sporting an arrow near his shoulder threw his spear; the nobleman knocked it aside with his sword. The nobleman swore and spun to meet the sickle of the would-be assassin. “You’re all _traitors!”_

“We’re not traitors!” The stablehand fighting him seethed with rage. The strikes between them flew swift and furious. The short range of the sharp sickle made it viciously agile, but the nobleman danced around it, meeting every blow even when his heavier sword should have been awkward in comparison.

“We serve the rightful Emperor!” The stablehand crowed, “You’re the one here who’s a traitor, _my Lord—”_

He was cut off by the nobleman scoring a heavy blow across his chest, then kicking him back. _“Farore’ll have your bones,”_ the pink-haired boy growled.

Twilight and Hyrule took each other’s backs, sandwiched between the two guards. “Pff, only two?” Twilight joked, parrying a blow. “Compared to yesterday, this is nothing!”

The female guard roared and whipped around the butt of her spear—only to have her hand swiped by Hyrule’s dagger as he and Twilight switched places at the last second. The other guard, in the meantime, had his spear splintered by the full weight of Twilight’s sword. Twilight swept his legs out from under him and kicked him in the head before he could retaliate.

“Like I said—” Twilight started.

The female guard fell under a rain of arrows from above.

“Yeah,” Twilight gestured to make his point. “This is nothing. Thanks, Wild.”

Their last attacker was finally dispatched with a blow from the hilt of the nobleman’s sword, leaving him to sprawl with his companions. The nobleman heaved for breath. Twilight and Hyrule watched him.

Then he growled and swiped his sword through a bush, sending a spray of twigs spinning off into the underbrush. “He has his claws _everywhere!_ I can’t—even my own guards—my _stablehand?!”_

He fisted a hand in his hair and let all his breath out through clenched teeth with one more frustrated noise. “You knew.” He turned to point at Hyrule. “How did you know? How did you know what they were about to do?”

“Ah—” Hyrule hunched in. He looked to Twilight, who was listening with guarded caution.

Well. This guy was clearly far from friendly to Ganon. Hyrule wasn’t sure he’d believe them, though. “I saw it in a dream,” he admitted. “I can see things sometimes that others can’t—like warnings of danger.”

“…and you saw that my stablehand was going to try to kill me,” the nobleman clarified, just as dubious as Hyrule was expecting.

“Kind of.”

“That sounds like a load of bull,” he said frankly. “But do you think you could tell if there’s any more?”

Hyrule shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Great. Consider yourself employed. Now, did either of you see where the horses got off to?” He sheathed his sword and started searching.

Hyrule frowned. “Now, wait, hold on—I didn’t agree to—”

“Hey, uh, Hyrule?” Twilight gave him smile that was more of a grimace. “I hate to break it to you, but we kind of…lost all our food when we had to run off from the camp last night. So…”

Hyrule blew air through his lips but conceded. “Fine. But you’re talking big for someone that didn’t just get hired as an assassin-detector.”

“Fortunately,” the nobleman called from a distance, “many positions have just opened up in my staff! Congratulations, you’re a guard. Now if you’d happen to know someone who’s any good with horses, that’d be great.”

“I’m pretty good with—” Twilight started.

A trilling whistle drew their attention farther down the path. Wild waved cheerily from where he led all four horses back with him by no visible lead or reins. One whinnied, while another nosed through his hair and plastered it sideways with a wet lick.

“If I did still have a stablehand already, I’d fire him. Good job, you’re hired.” The nobleman returned and paused. “Where’s the saddle from the stablehand’s horse?”

Wild blinked at him.

“O-kay.” The nobleman mounted his horse. It gave one last affectionate snuffle to Wild’s cheek before following his tug on the reins. “Well.” The noble gave a parody of a half-bow. “Legend, of the House of the Rabbit, at your service. Enjoy your time working here and I hope the attempted stabbings remain at a minimum.”

* * *

Warriors was so exhausted that it was a while before he noticed anything about the inn except that it had an empty seat by the bar. He all but melted onto the rickety little stool, his bones disintegrating into the surface of the bartop as he slumped over it.

The innkeeper paused in his conversation to hum sympathetically. “Long day?”

Warriors grunted without lifting his head. The innkeeper went back to his business.

“So,” the man was continuing to someone a few seats down, “the chicken and potatoes are three blue rupees each, which puts you at two red and one blue total.”

“Oh…” a girl’s voice said, uncertain. “Money. Um.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The innkeeper was beginning to sound suspicious. “The food’s all here and made, so you better have something to pay me with. If not, I’m gonna have to call someone to escort you out.”

“Yes, of course,” the poor girl was clearly struggling to stay polite under her growing nervousness, “obviously. If, um. You’ll just excuse me a minute, I can go…uh…”

“Money _first,_ please, if you don’t mind.” It wasn’t a request.

Warriors’s heart tugged. Goddess, if he didn’t know what it was like to come up short for rupees on a meal sometimes. He gathered the strength he had left to lean up on one elbow. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Throw one more in for me and I’ll cover it.”

“Oh! You don’t have to do that, really.” The girl tugged at a tangled strand of blond hair. Looking at her, Warriors had to guess she was a good bit younger than him, somewhere in her late teens. Beneath the tears and mud, her clothes had a make to them that he didn’t recognize, and he had to wonder what could bring someone her age all the way here from wherever she came from. He hoped she wasn’t alone.

“It’s no trouble,” he assured her. “I have a little bit of extra right now; I can afford it.” Even if it was probably technically supposed to be for ‘mission expenses.’ Helping the people counted as part of his mission, right?

“Thank you.” She climbed up a stool near his, her heels resting on the bottom rung. “My friend does have money, I think. Whenever she gets down here, we can pay you back if you want.”

Warriors waved her off. “Eh.” So, she wasn’t alone. Good. This area was crawling with packs of bokoblins, and a lone traveler wasn’t likely to last long. Especially one that didn’t know the area.

He was really curious about where she could be from, but he didn’t want to make her nervous by asking too many questions. “So,” he settled on, “how are the East Barrens treating you? I know I could be happy never seeing sand again in my life, by this point.”

“Oh, no!” She brightened. “I think it’s beautiful! I didn’t know there could be so much sand in one place. And the stone formations—they’re so tall and colorful…”

 _“SUN!”_

The girl startled and whipped around to face the figure marching through a sea of patrons. They were clearly a fighter; no one else in their right mind had that many knives, and beneath tattered wrappings Warriors could make out well-used body armor. The edge of a red symbol faded with time and wear was painted across the breastplate, but not visible enough for him to really make out.

“Who are you talking to?” From the way they pushed subtly in front of the girl—Sun, Warriors guessed her name must be—he figured that this must be the woman the girl spoke of earlier, the ‘friend’ she was traveling with.

“He—” Sun fumbled, defensive, “—I went ahead and ordered our food, but I didn’t—the man back there was asking for money, and I didn’t have any, so he paid for it. I was just thanking him.”

“Hm.” Beneath the wrappings, it was hard to make out any of the fighter’s expression beyond her calculating eyes.

“So…” Warriors tried to fill the awkward silence. For the first time, he noticed a boy around Sun’s age hovering over the fighter’s shoulder watching their conversation with unguarded curiosity. He gravitated toward Sun like a magnet once they reached her side. “Is this your…?” Warriors started, pointing between Sun and the fighter.

“Sister.” The fighter said.

“…Sister,” Sun agreed, a beat behind. “Sheik. My sister. That we’re traveling with.”

“O…kay.” The hesitation was weird (as well as the name), but Warriors figured that was their business. “Your sister and…” he noted the closeness of the boy with a teasing look. “Boyfriend?”

Warriors watched in delight as the boy flushed from his neck to the tips of his ears. The boy scratched the back of his neck and hid behind his elbow. “I’m—we’re not—I mean—”

Sun giggled, and the sheer fondness clear on her face as the boy’s eyes bugged at her lack of response to the question was endearing. Warriors didn’t think he’d ever seen a cuter couple.

“Aww, don’t be embarrassed,” he egged on. “She’s a real catch! You’re a lucky guy.”

The boy’s voice jumped up an octave. “Oh, look! The food’s done! I’ll get it.” He very unsubtly shifted behind his two companions and stuffed his face with potatoes.

“So.” Sheik was jarringly cold and cutting after to the other two’s teasing. “What kind of business brings an Imperial soldier all the way out here?”

Both her companions turned to stare. It was an odd response. Warriors was in uniform with the Emperor’s insignia easy enough to see on his chest, so it shouldn’t be a surprise. They acted like they had never seen a soldier before.

“The exhausting kind of business.” He groaned at the reminder about where he was headed crashing back down on him. The drained feeling from before made itself known again. “I’m assigned to meet up with this guy, and he’s just…needlessly unpleasant. He’s kind of creepy, honestly, and I’d rather be over and done with it as soon as possible, but the man won’t _stay in one place.”_

“Hm.” Sheik said again. Although a minute ago, she had seemed ready to drag her friends away and leave, now she settled down into a seat. She pushed around her chicken without eating any. After a long time, long enough that he wasn’t expecting her to answer at all, she asked, “So, you’re not really a fan of the people you’re working with? In the army, I mean. Is it just personality, or more about what they’re doing?”

Warriors’s brow furrowed. Something about the question rang suspicious in the back of his mind. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sheik shrugged. “Just curious. Seem to meet a lot of Imperial soldiers who are…’needlessly unpleasant,’” she quoted him, “…from what I’ve heard.”

“Hey,” Warriors joked, “if you’re trying to say something about me, say it to my face.” Sheik didn’t laugh.

Warriors sighed. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. “Look, the army’s not perfect. I know that. It’s not popular either. But people are out there dying—innocent people, out trying to live their lives in a place full of bandits and monsters and who knows what else! The army is all they have to protect them.”

“So that’s what you’re doing?” Sheik’s red eyes bore into his. “Protecting people by serving Ganon?”

The way she mentioned the name should have raised a warning in his mind, but for some reason he found himself strangely defensive. Her gaze was piercing, daring him for the honest truth of what he thought.

She didn’t know him. She didn’t know what he’d seen, what he’d experienced. “Trust me,” he laughed without humor. “This isn’t the kind of job one lone guy with a sword can take care of. The world is a wild and heartless place; hopefully a good soldier can do something to make it a little less so.”

He meant it, but for some reason he couldn’t meet her eyes when he said it.

Just like that, Sheik was closed off again. “Guess it’s just the personalities that are a problem, then. What’s so bad about this guy you’re meeting?”

If Warriors had been thinking clearer, he would have been wary of a question like that about his business so soon after someone challenging his loyalties. But with his head still swimming in self-justifying anger, he rushed to explain himself. “If he wasn’t the best at what he does, I swear—he has no control of his temper, first of all, and he doesn’t care who gets in the way when he loses it. He likes to treat personal boundaries as a challenge. And I swear to the forsaken goddess,” he gestured with one hand, “the man has the tongue of a lizard and wants everyone to know.”

Sun gasped and the boy dropped his fork. Warriors’s voice died in his throat.

When Sheik turned to give her companions a warning glare, the wraps across her armor shifted to reveal a red eye and teardrop stretching down her chest.

Warriors’s stomach turned to ash. “Sheik. Like Sheikah. That’s a Sheikah symbol—you’re the one who attacked Ghirahim! And you two know him…” It finally clicked. He’d never felt more stupid in his life. The revelation spilled out of his numb lips. “You’re the prisoners I was sent to collect.”

In the blink of an eye, Sheik went from sitting to dragging her companions across the room, her stool flying at Warriors’s face. It nearly knocked the air out of him when it impacted his chest, sending him sprawling. He cursed and drew his sword. “Hey, get back here! You’re under arrest!”

“Go!” Sheik shouted, “Out the front door! I’ll catch up!” With one final shove against the other two’s backs, she bounded up a table. Just as Warriors caught up, she used the upward momentum to leap and catch the wood-and-iron chandelier hanging low overhead. With a precise twist, she swung and launched her feet directly onto Warriors’s shoulders.

Pain ratcheted through his skull as his head connected with the floorboards, her feet pinning him down. He saw the flash of one of her knives leaving its sheath and knew he had to move fast. He braced one arm around her legs and rammed the other against the back of her knees, knocking her off balance. It was enough for her to stumble forward and allow him to throw her off. He rolled to his feet and drew his sword.

By this point, the crowd of patrons was swarming around them, either pushing out of the way or jockeying to get a better look at the action. A shoulder bowled into him from behind, and he had to dodge awkwardly to avoid skewering an elderly woman and her grandchildren.

By the time he righted himself, he cursed again. Sheik was nowhere in sight.

He scanned the crowd, then jumped up on a table for a better look. There—a choppy blond braid, wrapped and tipped with a sharp piece of metal glinted at the front door. He sprung from the table in pursuit.

The chaos of the crowd inside was nothing compared to the whipping dust storm he crossed into. Sand filled the folds of his scarf, crawling under his eyelashes and gritting between his teeth. A trio of shadows retreated down the road. He followed.

He must have searched for close to an hour, sure every shift in the light was a lead but wary of leaving the safety of the town too far behind. After long enough, a niggling suspicion began to creep in that the rumors of Sheikah witchcraft were true and the three had simply run off into the depths of the storm, knowing some magical way to navigate it.

Sand scraped down his throat and Warriors coughed, winding his scarf around his mouth. He couldn’t stay out here. By this point, he had to admit that Sheik and her two companions—the two escaped prisoners—were long gone.

He felt along the wall of a stable at the end of the road and began to make his way back toward the inn. He had a letter to send to higher command. His assignment was getting a little more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey remember how a lot of hyrule warriors revolves around warriors and the rest of the army trying to find zelda
> 
> Also thank you so much to everyone who's commented/subscribed/bookmarked/messaged me/clicked on the story at all in any way! The response has been really encouraging and beyond what I ever hoped for and I think about you all the time! <3
> 
> Next: Wild makes a decision. Hyrule, Twilight, and Wild try to figure out what guards are supposed to do.


	8. Gainful Employment pt. 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1. Wild makes a decision. Hyrule, Twilight, and Wild try to figure out what guards are supposed to do.

The sun was almost directly overhead by the time Hyrule, Twilight, Wild, and Legend finally arrived at their destination.

Hyrule was fascinated. He’d never been so close to a Lord’s house before—only on the outskirts of their villages, catching glimpses of the beautiful manor houses from a distance. Now that their strange party was making its way through the central road of one such small village, he couldn’t stop finding things to look at. The cluster of small houses was a riot of color and life, spewing dust from brooms and flapping laundry in the wind from all sides.

People, likewise, spewed out to greet the young nobleman and pepper him with questions about his new companions. Legend spun some vague story about bailing them all out of a ditch—charitable of him, Hyrule thought sarcastically—before generally turning the conversation around to the business of the villagers. Between a crow problem and a heated dispute over someone-or-other’s prized washbasin, Hyrule and the others managed to slip through without too much personal interrogation.

“It probably goes without saying,” Legend leaned in once they were alone again, “but it would probably be a good idea not to run our mouths too much about what you’re doing here. First of all, the last thing we need is a panic or some kind of witch-hunt about whose neighbor they always hated is probably a ‘Yiga spy,’” he put in air quotes, with all the weariness of someone citing a specific incident. “And, second of all, we need the element of surprise if there’s any more around.”

“Makes sense,” Twilight nodded. He looked about as dazed as Hyrule felt, still spinning from trying to follow so many questions all at once. Wild was a little harder to read. He was definitely absorbed in drinking in their surroundings, but it was impossible to tell whether he was paying any attention at all to the actual words being said around him at any given point in time.

As they passed into the shadow of an archway, crossing through the stone walls around the manor house stretching ahead, Twilight wondered out loud, “Is it always like that?”

“Like what?” Legend slid from his horse’s saddle. Beneath his feet, a scattering of dead leaves made a resounding crunch on impact against the cobblestone of the courtyard.

“Askin’ you to solve every little thing,” Twilight clarified. “Ordon, the town near where I’m from, has a mayor with a similar problem. I was just wondering if that’s common.”

“As far as I know.” Legend shrugged. “Comes with the territory of being a Lord. ‘S just how it is. Although,” he raised an eyebrow, “I wouldn’t mind some extra hands.”

He looked somewhat doubtfully between Hyrule, who realized belatedly that he had hidden from all the new strangers behind Twilight at some point without noticing it, and Wild, who seemed to be deeply occupied scratching for something in the dirt.

Wild noticed that he was drawing attention. “Bug,” he clarified, holding up a rather large beetle.

“…anyway,” Legend turned ahead. “The horses go in here. Y…uh…” he paused halfway through saying something to Wild over his shoulder. “Hey, what’s your name, anyway?”

Wild said nothing. He glanced at Twilight.

“That’s Wild,” Twilight cut in smoothly. “An’ I’m Twilight, by the way. And this is Hyrule.” Hyrule paused in his very careful attempt at climbing down from his horse to wave before turning his concentration back to the task at hand. People who rode horses all the time made this look so easy.

Legend’s nose wrinkled. “Weird names.”

“Bold words, coming from you,” Twilight drawled.

Legend snorted, more in surprise than anything else, then broke out into a laugh. “Touché, I guess. So… _Wild_ …the horse stuff is back there, I think, when you need it.” He pointed to a back corner of the stable.

Wild nodded. As the others began to move along, he gave his horse one last firm hug around her head before following. Hyrule was frankly impressed by how quickly the two seemed to have bonded — watching her, you’d think the mare had known Wild from birth, rather than earlier that morning.

Hyrule, meanwhile, eyed the tall stallion he’d ridden with thorough distrust. It was mutual. He could just tell by looking into those dark, soulless eyes.

Legend led them on through a pair of heavy wooden doors arched into a point at the side of the house. After passing through a few back hallways, their path opened up into a wide hall that stopped Hyrule dead in his tracks.

He’d never _been_ anywhere so big. He craned back his head in open-mouthed awe.

Dark wooden columns lined the walls, carved intricately with images of rabbits that stretched high above. Overhead, a ceiling arched that was made with panels painted to look like a night sky and dotted with a thousand golden constellations. Golden ornaments shaped like stars and suns marked the panels’ corners, dripping down chandeliers that danced in the sunlight pouring from windows overhead, even without their candles lit.

Overall, it gave Hyrule the feeling of having stumbled into a forest clearing by night, finding an opening in the branches with a wide view of the heavens above.

Twilight gave a low whistle. “Fancy.”

“Thanks,” Legend said dryly. Hyrule dragged himself back to earth and felt his face flush with embarrassment when he realized both Legend and Twilight were watching him, amused.

“It’s big,” he said, which probably didn’t help his case.

Rich tapestries draped the walls as well, painstakingly threaded with images in gradient hues of pink, gold, and purple. Though Hyrule couldn’t help but notice that one spot was conspicuously blank. Where one long tapestry sat in the middle of a wall showing a field of golden wildflowers ringed in by trees, it was flanked on its right by a smaller one bearing a stylized pink rabbit. The left, though, was empty.

He opened his mouth to ask, but then thought better of it.

“I would say you three could just take the guards’ quarters,” Legend was saying, starting up a winding series of dark stairs, “since they’re empty now, but uh…seeing as we’re trying to figure out if your future neighbors down there would be assassins…might be a better idea to just let you have the guest rooms.”

“I’m certainly not complainin’.” Twilight grinned. “Oh, while we’re at it, though.” He gestured to Wild, who was lagging behind and giving the wooden columns a calculating look. “We really do need to get a look at that slice on Wild’s shoulder. I don’t want it getting infected.”

“And your ribs,” Wild put in, showing that he was, in fact, paying attention. His tone dared Twilight to disagree.

“…yeah,” Twilight allowed as the stairs became a curving walkway lined with tall windows, “those don’t really feel too good either.” He rubbed at them as he said it.

“I have medical stuff; I can get it.” Legend pointed down the hall. “Guest rooms are down there at that end. My room’s over here,” he pointed a thumb over his shoulder and deadpanned, “conveniently located close by so that if I get killed in the night by another one of those spies you can hear and come avenge me.”

Twilight looked vaguely disturbed by his blasé attitude but gave him a thumbs up anyway.

Legend’s eyes shifted over his shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?!” He snapped.

Hyrule and Twilight whipped around to see Wild snatch his hand back from a doorknob like he’d been burned. It was the room across the hall from Legend’s; Hyrule realized now that although the rest of the doors on the hall were open, this one and a couple more next to it were shut.

“You guys can stay here,” Legend said, expression cold as he gave Wild’s shoulder a hearty shove away from the door, “but that doesn’t mean you can poke around wherever you want. If that’s not to your liking, then the three of you seem plenty competent enough to take your chances in the guards’ barracks anyway. Got it?”

Wild gave as good as he got. The feral snarl was beginning to return as he glared Legend down.

“That,” said Twilight, putting a careful hand between them, “sounds like a perfectly reasonable request. Come on, Wild, let me get a look at that shoulder.”

For a moment, Hyrule was afraid Wild wouldn’t let it go. Then his expression smoothed over, blank as stone, and he allowed Twilight to pull him away.

\---

“I get if you don’t want to stick around,” Twilight said. It was long enough after they’d been left alone that he’d clearly spent some time thinking it over. “We show up out of nowhere and kinda drag you along with us, and now we’re staying with this guy, and he’s…well…you know. A little on the prickly side. We’re glad to have you, if you want to stay, but if you don’t…”

Wild gave an unreadable, one-shouldered shrug. In the meantime, he let Twilight begin to dress the wound on his shoulder and wrap it with bandages. With his shirt shucked and crumpled on the floor, it was hard not to stare—the same sharp blasts of scar tissue that bit into his face and arms twisted across his torso, clawing into his skin. He startled slightly when Twilight touched him the first time but sat (mostly) still without complaint to let him do his work; after a moment, a bit of his tension even began to seep away from him.

The smell of the antiseptic was strong enough for Hyrule to have to hold back a sneeze. He was sure Twilight was laughing at him, but they were both distracted by the way Wild went slack in his seat.

“…Wild?” Twilight prodded his back. There was no response. Wild’s eyes remained locked in the middle distance. “Hey, you still with us? What’s the matter?”

It was a long, _long_ minute before Wild shuddered and blinked hard, looking around as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. Twilight was valiantly attempting not to panic, but it seeped into his tone anyway. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Did something in your injury get aggravated?”

Wild shook his head. “Nng. Nothing’s wrong. Just…remembering something?” He didn’t sound sure. “…Maybe,” he finished under his breath.

Though Twilight clearly wanted to ask more, he made himself return to the task at hand.

For the moment, Hyrule left them to it and went to investigate their new lodgings.

The guest rooms were just as ornate as the rest of the house. They even had their own fireplaces! The rugs were plush and thick enough that Hyrule gave into the temptation to take off his boots and sink his feet in, then just sit where he was and bury his palms. It was so _soft._ There was a huge bed in every room as well, with a canopy and pillows and blankets piled high.

Honestly, though, he could curl up right here and be perfectly happy. He contemplated one of the blankets piled at the end of the bed. As a matter of fact…

He gathered up a heavy red blanket in his arms and snagged two pillows, then dumped them on the floor. Satisfied, he bundled them up into a nest around himself. “Dibs on this spot here.”

Twilight and Wild paused to look. “There’s…more beds…?” Twilight posed the suggestion as a question. Wild gave Hyrule an appreciative nod.

Twilight shrugged. As he went to lay claim to the bed, Wild tugged at a snarl in his long hair.

“Can you do it again?” Wild asked Hyrule without preamble.

“Do…what…?”

“The…” Wild pointed at his left hand and made a wiggly motion with his fingers over his eyes. “You can see it?”

“Yeah. Um.” Hyrule resigned himself to the fact that this was his job now. “C’mere, I can try to do it again, I guess.”

Wild gave his hand obediently. Twilight watched from his perch on the bed as Hyrule closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to remember and draw up the feeling from before. He reached out in his mind, poking around, trying to grasp the sensation of an intangible heartbeat connecting them and hold onto it.

When he opened his eyes, he could see golden light glinting against the buckles on Wild’s chest. The glow danced against Wild’s long hair, reflecting against his own eyes. Though only Hyrule could see the three triangles shining there beneath the skin of Wild’s hand, one filled in with liquid gold, his eyes must have been throwing off a light of their own.

“Right here,” Hyrule said. He traced its outline with a fingertip.

“The Triforce of Courage,” Wild breathed, soft enough that it might have been only to himself. “That’s what I have? That’s what it’s called?”

“You do,” Hyrule told him. “All three of us do.”

Wild ran a thumb over the back of his left hand, like he’d be able to rub off the dirt there and see it himself.

“I want to stay.” His eyes met Hyrule’s, then Twilight’s. “You’re like me. I want to stay with you.”

Hyrule felt a smile threatening to split his face. Somehow, in so few words, Wild had managed to name the warm and living thing that had been taking root in his chest, breathing fire into his blood. It curled there between them, unfurling its wings.

_You’re like me. We’re going to stay together._

“Glad to hear it.” Twilight’s grin was soft as he ruffled their new companion’s tangled hair.

\---

“Are we…” Hyrule leaned his head in toward Twilight. “Supposed to be…doing anything? What do guards do?”

He was at a loss. So far, during their first day, their job seemed to consist of following Legend around through the southern portion of his lands and stopping by the homesteads of the various people that lived there. For the past few hours or so, they’d been making their way along a high ridge heading, as best Hyrule could tell, toward a scraggly patch of trees at its farthest point. They were almost close enough now for him to maybe be able to make out the top of a chimney in there somewhere.

Twilight shrugged in front of him. After Hyrule’s continued misgivings about horseback riding, they’d decided it was probably for the best if he rode behind Twilight, rather than on his own horse. The constant, rocking sway still took some getting used to, but at least now he didn’t feel like he was going to get bucked out of spite any minute.

“Mostly,” Legend called from up ahead in answer to his question, “don’t be snitches. Then you’re already better than my last pair of guards.”

Hyrule frowned and leaned around Twilight. “Isn’t that…kind of…my job, though? I’m supposed to tell you if there’s any Yiga around.”

Legend turned, raised a finger, then paused and pursed his lips. “Okay, correction: Snitch _to_ me, instead of _on_ me. And also help me not die, that’s the main one.”

Trees ringed around them, dotting their path with golden-green shadow. Hyrule noticed that they kept to fairly neat lines, with the ground clear of underbrush and a sturdy hardwood fence running a perimeter. Though they were empty now, he decided it must be some kind of fruit tree orchard.

“There haven’t been any Yiga out here, though.” Hyrule pointed out. “At least, as far as I can tell. Nobody that we’ve been to visit has seemed particularly dangerous.”

“Oh,” Legend blinked. “No, they’re not. I wasn’t talking about them. It’s the people working for me back home I’m worried about; these folks out here are just minding their own business trying to live their lives.”

“Then what are we doing out here?” Twilight asked as they brought their horses to a halt. Hyrule had been right about the chimney. At its base, a modest log cabin sat that had clearly seen more than a few add-ons and patches over the years. A line of small pots sat in its windowsills, spilling flowers that trailed down the walls.

Legend pulled a small, leather-bound book from his saddlebag and held it up in the air. “Harvest report. Gotta check in on how the season’s been for crops.”

“…oh.” Twilight slid a leg over and stepped down from the saddle, thoughtful.

Legend scanned the trees around them. “Hey, we didn’t lose Wild this time for good, did we?”

Hyrule didn’t think so. “No, he’ll be back. He probably found another bug.”

Twilight, meanwhile, was still occupied with something Legend had said earlier. “You’re so worried about people snitching on you…what for?”

Legend cut him a sideways look. “Treason,” he said plainly. “Also, probably tax evasion, which might be worse.”

With that, he knocked on the cabin’s door.

A matronly woman answered, wiping her hands on a cotton apron. “Oh! It’s the young Lord. That time again already. Come on in, I’ll get you somethin’ to drink—”

“Ah, no! That’s okay. You don’t need to do that.” Legend tensed and raised his hands as if holding off an attacker. “This’ll really only take a second, and, you know, we have a schedule to keep to.”

The source of his discomfort became clear to Hyrule when a cascade of tittering giggles sounded from inside the house. Shifting to one side for a better look, he found the inside full to bursting with young ladies, all vying for a look at Legend with varying degrees of subtlety.

At Hyrule’s movement, their eyes locked on him. He twitched and shuffled back behind Legend. Nope. He’d let their new friend deal with this one.

“Beautiful girls you got there, ma’am,” said Twilight, who didn’t fear death. “Your daughters?”

“All through some means or another, yes.” The woman gave them a fond, if somewhat reproachful look over her shoulder. “You’d think that would mean they would’a learned some _manners_ by now.”

This only prompted another wave of giggles.

She took pity on poor Legend. “I’ll get the numbers book real quick so you can be on your way.”

“Thanks,” he said stiffly. After a harrowing few minutes where she left them alone at the door and Hyrule briefly feared they’d be stampeded, she returned with book in hand and she and Legend were able to move on to business.

In the corner of his vision, Hyrule sighted movement and found Wild beginning to emerge from the trees. It meant Hyrule got a clear, full view of the progression of thoughts on his face when he saw that they were talking to someone, and then noticed the _abundance_ of someones listening in from the other side of the door.

He pivoted and retreated back into the orchard. Smart man.

“Better than last year,” the woman was saying, when Hyrule tuned back in, her head high in pride. “Got a few more hands around, now, so we can cover more ground.”

“Congratulations. I’m glad to hear it.” Though he was clearly still uncomfortable, Hyrule could tell Legend meant it. “I hope you have another good year to come. Anything going on I should know about?”

Her expression grew stormy. With one more look behind her back, she pulled the door to and lowered her voice. “Had some more shady folks comin’ by asking about you. Wanted to know if I knew anything about your travels.”

Legend’s lips thinned into a grim line. He didn’t look surprised. “They didn’t cause any trouble, did they?”

“Nah.” She gave him a teasing grin, and singsonged, “My girls ran ‘em off chattering about _you_ an’ your _looks_ an’ your _singin’_ voice an’ how you fight with that _sword—”_

“I get the idea,” Legend bit off, while Twilight cackled behind him. Hyrule fought down a laugh of his own and bit his lip to keep from smiling.

“They weren’t the only ones that came by, though.” She sobered. She turned shrewd, inspecting Hyrule and Twilight.

“Go ahead,” Legend waved her on. “They’re okay.”

She nodded. “Met a Rito coming through here that lost his way. He said he was going up to meet with a group in…well…I couldn’t get a straight answer out of him about where exactly he was headed. But I managed to convince him I was—y’know—” she hesitated and glanced at Hyrule and Twilight again, but finished, “unfriendly to the current government. And he told me he was headed for a movement.”

Her eyes met Legend’s “The way he was talking, it sounded like a big one.”

He stewed on this information. “Okay. Alright. If I give you a letter, could you hand it off to anyone else that sounds like they’re headed the same way?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

After taking the letter, she pocketed it in her apron and wrung the fabric tight between her hands. “You don’t rush into anything stupid; you hear? We need you out here. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.” He was already leaving as he said it, though, avoiding her eyes. “And thanks for your valuable tax contribution to the crown.”

“Any time,” she curtsied sarcastically. She lingered in the doorway, though, even as they mounted their horses and began to head out.

“Tax contribution?” Twilight asked.

Legend was pulled out of his thoughts and barked a chuckle. “Oh, yeah. Look, I’m also making rounds to collect yearly taxes as per the laws of our dear Emperor. See?”

He held up an empty hand and mimed holding a bag of rupees. He shook it a little and made a clinking sound with his mouth. “Clearly, they paid in full.”

“Tax evasion,” Twilight realized.

“Like I said.” Legend’s tone was deceptively light. “Snitches get stitches, so mind your business.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Part 2. Wild's memory issues come to a head. Legend gets let in on a secret. Twilight realizes something about Wild.
> 
> Double update! This section was a little on the long side for one chapter, but a little on the short side for two. So, I just decided to compromise and post both parts at once!


	9. Gainful Employment pt. 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2. Wild's memory issues come to a head. Legend gets let in on a secret. Twilight realizes something about Wild.

Noon arrived with their trail following a gentle slope down the bank of a river. They had to duck under tree branches that hung low, dipping their waterlogged tips in the current and carving out gentle V-shapes. It was nice place. Hyrule watched the water curl up to lap at the grass, tugging sprays of wildflowers to sway in time with the flow.

Legend apparently agreed. “Seems like a good place to stop for a while.” His feet made a crash against the pebbly shore when he slid down from his saddle. “All I got right now in terms of food is some trail rations, so I hope you three aren’t too picky.”

To Hyrule, food was food, and Twilight looked accepting of his fate. Wild, though, who had fallen back in with them after they left the orchard behind, scowled.

“What’s that look for, Mister Keese-Could-Nest-In-My-Hair?” Legend tied his horse’s reins off in the shade of a winding oak tree, making sure it had enough room to graze. “You feel like producing us a nice ten-course meal hiding somewhere in those long locks?”

“We could go fishing,” Wild said, speaking up for the first time all day.

“How? We don’t have any fishing poles.”

Hyrule recognized the same impish look growing on Wild’s face that he’d had right before grabbing a lit branch from a campfire. It was at this moment that he began to fear for his personal safety.

Wild didn’t disappoint. “Got any explosives?”

“…no,” Legend said, caught somewhere between baffled and dangerously intrigued.

Wild shrugged. He then proceeded to draw his knife, drop his bow and arrows on the riverbank, and take a flying leap into the water.

Legend’s eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. “Sweet Farore, he just jumped in there clothes and all. Are you gonna try to catch us some with your bare hands?”

Wild didn’t dignify him with an answer. Instead, he focused his concentration on balancing just right on a mossy rock jutting under the water. The river travelled along its bed of gravel in a low, lazy burble, tugging branches and flickering fish, clear enough for them to be able to see his feet churning for purchase.

Legend plopped down on crossed legs and leaned his chin in his hands, apparently too fascinated to give any more sarcastic commentary. After tying up their own horse, Twilight followed suit, stretching his legs out in the sun.

Hyrule crouched over his feet. “Is this always how you fish?” Without a fishing pole of his own, Hyrule had never considered anything that lived in a river as much of an option to eat, save for maybe a very slow-moving lizard. He’d love to know if there was a way he could change that.

Wild shushed him. He tugged hair away from his face with a frustrated movement and had to stop to dig out a hair tie buried somewhere in its depths, re-fastening it to do a better job. He angled his knife at the ready.

Legend, Twilight, and Hyrule watched on bated breath.

Then Wild lunged, darting through the water and emerging with a salmon speared on the end of his blade, held up in triumph. The other three erupted into hollering applause.

Wild tossed the fish to the riverbank, looking more than a little pleased with himself at the praise.

“Now, hold on, move over.” Legend jumped to his feet. “I gotta try this.”

“I don’t know…” Wild gestured with his knife, doubtful. “It’s pretty hard to learn. But if you don’t mind me making a fool of you…” A challenging grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You’ll eat those words,” Legend vowed. He left his tunic and rings in the grass, stripping down to the shorts underneath, and dug through his saddlebags until he emerged with a knife around the size of Wild’s. Seeing him shirtless, Hyrule was surprised at the number of scars he had crossing his torso. They seemed out of place on a young noble.

“Fine,” Wild eyed the knife and pointed, “down there. I’m not getting stabbed.”

Legend retaliated by splashing in right next to Wild’s rock, sending wings of water splattering over him. While Wild spluttered and pinwheeled his arms to keep his balance, Legend waded his way primly farther _up_ the stream instead. He spun the knife in his hand and crouched at the ready.

“Is it _worth_ it, though?” Twilight postulated to the air. “Fishing with a pole is so relaxing. Gives you time to think.”

Hyrule shrugged. Twilight shrugged too, turning his palms up as if to indicate _‘to each his own.’_ He tugged a blade of grass out from the bank and set it between his teeth, then leaned back to pillow his head on his arms. “Lemme known if they catch something and need help cookin’ it.”

In answer, Wild tossed another fish on top of his first. Twilight gave him two thumbs up without opening his eyes. Wild beamed.

“I’m gonna get it,” Legend insisted. He swung and missed. “I just need to figure out the refraction, I swear I’ve done this before with a spear. How different can it be?” By the end he was grumbling to himself under his breath.

Without Twilight blocking it, the sun glinted off Legend’s abandoned rings and into Hyrule’s eyes. He shifted to try to find a different position. It was an impressive collection, for sure. The longer he looked at them, the more they tugged at that strange place between his eyes that he was beginning to associate with his visions, telling him they probably had some magic to them.

One in particular stood out among the rest. Where the others were dropped in a pile on top of Legend’s tunic, one was lain out carefully by itself. A thin chain wrapped out from it, explaining how Hyrule hadn’t seen it before—Legend must have usually worn it around his neck, instead of on his hand. While all the other rings were wrought in gold and iron, inlaid with jewels that nearly glowed with stored magic, it was plain, unenchanted wood.

For all its normalcy, though, it was beautiful. Intricate, painstaking designs were carved into its surface that formed tiny seashells and waves, with some kind of bird stretching its wings along one side. Some kind of seagull, maybe?

“What’s the matter, did you give up?” Legend called, drawing Hyrule out of his thoughts. He followed Legend’s gaze to Wild, who seemed to have forgotten about fishing in favor of leaning over his rock to get a better look at a flower on the opposite bank.

“What is that?” Wild asked. “That flower? I feel like I’ve seen it…”

Hyrule shielded his eyes. The flower in question had five pointed, white-dipped tips that faded to blue in the center. He’d seen a good number of them scattered around pretty much everywhere he went, but they seemed to be concentrated more toward the capitol and Hateno. He didn’t know if they had a name.

“It’s called Silent…” Twilight frowned. “Wild? Wild!”

It was happening again. Just as the night before, Wild’s eyes went distant and he stilled. The knife slipped from his fingers and drifted down in the water.

Twilight cursed. He stood and made to jump in, but Legend waved him down. After checking that Wild wasn’t about to fall, Legend scooped the dagger from the riverbed and put it between his teeth. He guided Wild through the shallow water to shore with a fist in the sleeve of his tunic, making sure he didn’t trip.

When they reached the bank and he was sure Wild was secure, Legend dropped the dagger. “What’s wrong with him? Is he okay?” Though he tried to conceal it, worry seeped into his tone as he snapped two fingers in front of Wild’s face and got no response. He looked unnerved.

“I don’t know,” said Twilight. “I think it happened once before. He said something about remembering, but he didn’t say anything else…”

Legend’s face shadowed. “Remembering something bad? Is this a flashback?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight said again, agitated with his helplessness. Wild remained unresponsive when Twilight shook his arm. “Last time, it didn’t last very long. Maybe he’ll come back in a minute?”

Hyrule twisted grass in his closed fists, thrumming with worry. What was it that caused this? Watching Wild slip away like that and seeing the way the light faded from his eyes, Hyrule shuddered to think of what would happen if he did it during a battle.

Was this common? Did Wild live all the time under the expectation of slipping away at a moment’s notice, completely outside his control?

Where before the quiet between them had been peaceful, it now turned thick with uneasiness. Enough time passed that Legend went to collect his tunic and rings from the ground. Twilight was loath to let the fish Wild caught go to waste and, after some convincing, started cleaning them and getting them ready to cook.

He didn’t drift far from Wild’s side. Hyrule, likewise, felt a pressing need to keep close. After a lifetime of traveling alone, he was shocked at the strength of the responsibility he felt for the other hero, even having known him for such a short time. _You’re like me. We’re going to stay together. You’re like me. We’re going to stay together._ The words ringed a burning weight of determination around his heart.

A campfire had time to kindle and build, creeping into a healthy enough roar for Twilight to skewer and set up the fish before Wild began showing signs of life again.

Just like the night before, his eyes scrunched shut, refocusing with painful slowness once he opened them again. He tensed and whipped around to scan the banks of the river.

“Hey, Wild! Wild, we’re here.” Twilight hovered a hand near his calf and then drew it back, mindful of startling him. “You zoned out for a while. We just started getting the fish cooking.”

There was a bare second where Wild was a shade away from frantic, taking stock of Twilight, then Hyrule, then Legend, then checking again like he expected them to disappear. The moment passed and he settled, shuffling his feet. His boots were still sopping wet from the river and left puddles.

“You back with us yet?” Legend checked. Wild nodded. “Good. Care to explain _what in all Din’s fire that was about?”_

Wild shrugged and buried his fingers in the laces of his arm braces. His attention caught on the fish and he frowned, kneeling to adjust the angle of their stakes.

“Don’t _shrug_ at me,” Legend mimicked Wild’s shrug, “you just went catatonic with no warning at all. That’s not normal!”

“What he’s trying to say,” Twilight cut over Legend with a reproachful look, “is that we’re worried about you. If you give us some more information, we can try to help.”

Legend looked like he couldn’t decide whether he should be more offended by Twilight’s audacity or the implication that he was worried about someone. Between the two, he was stunned into silence.

Wild flipped the fish around one by one, gauging their distance from the fire carefully. He took his sweet time about it. While fiddling with the third one—Legend had managed to catch one after all—he finally spoke.

“Sorry.” It came out so soft that Hyrule could barely hear it over the fire. “Words don’t—right after. Can’t think of them. Brain gets all—" he waved both hands.

Legend let out a sigh that ruffled at his hair. “Okay.” He almost sounded apologetic, which made Hyrule inclined to be a little bit less irritated with how harsh he was being. When he continued, the bite had left his tone. “But after what? What happened?”

Without the fish to occupy his hands, Wild sat back on his haunches. His fingertips traced the zigzags of the ties that sandwiched the brace on either side of one arm, following them back and forth.

“I don’t really understand,” he started. “I woke up…a while ago. I don’t know how long. Not long enough to be…smaller. I mean. Words.” He made a frustrated noise. “I didn’t start out there. I didn’t start out asleep. Something happened to me, to make me end up there, but I don’t remember. I just remember waking up.”

“Woke up where?” Twilight’s brows drew together in concern.

“A room. There was…magic stuff. Nobody was there, though, just me.”

“So, what?” Legend butted in. “You took a magic nap and it broke your brain? How’s this related to what happened a minute ago?”

Before Hyrule could think he was smacking Legend’s shoulder. _“Quit,”_ he scolded, before his brain caught up with his mouth.

Legend’s eyes went almost perfectly round in shock. “I’m your liegelord, now, you know,” he said to both Hyrule and Twilight, a little faint. “You’re not being very good vassals.” His words were contrasted by the impressed note creeping into them.

Twilight shushed him. This time, Legend didn’t even look mad about it.

“I _almost_ don’t remember anything,” Wild corrected. “Sometimes, I’ll see something familiar and a memory will suddenly come back. It’s only happened a few times, but when it does, I get…stuck. It’s like I’m there, living it again, and I can’t snap out of it until it’s over.”

Hyrule shivered. “And you were surviving out here by yourself? It’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

“I’ve been lucky so far,” Wild grimaced. “Like I said, it doesn’t happen very often.”

Lucky was hardly the word Hyrule would use for it. By the look on Legend’s face, he felt the same. He took a skeptical swig from his waterskin.

“What was it that brought this one on?” Twilight asked. Heedless of Wild’s warning look, he leaned over to put the fish closer to the fire.

“The flower.” Wild’s expression shifted. His whole composure softened—a light came into his eyes, and the corners of his mouth turned upward. “It’s a Silent Princess. I just remembered that Zelda loves them; she wanted me to know about how much she felt like they had in common.”

Legend choked on his water. Twilight fumbled the fish and swore, shaking out a burn on his fingers. Hyrule felt his own lungs forget how to function for a minute.

 _“Zelda?!”_ Even as he wheezed, Legend was the first to recover.

“Yeah…” Wild’s forehead knotted. “Did I forget to say that part? She’s one of the only things I do remember. I think her voice might have woken me up.”

 _“No,”_ Hyrule told him, “you kinda left that part out!”

Wild frowned, thoughtful. “I’m not sure, but I think I might be her guard.”

Legend let out a breath all in one rough huff. He started to look like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Buddy, um. Yikes. Okay, there’s no good way to say this: those can’t be real memories. None of that’s possible.”

The fire threw reflections across Wild’s dark pupils. They clouded with distress. “What do you mean, they can’t be real? I can _feel_ them. All of it, even what the grass smelled like and how her voice sounds. I’ve _heard_ her, after I woke up—I didn’t just— _imagine_ that!”

He looked to Hyrule and Twilight for help, but Hyrule didn’t know what to think. He hated himself for it, but already the treacherous suspicion wanted to steal into his thoughts that maybe there really _could_ be something in Wild’s mind that just…wasn’t there. So many things about him didn’t make sense. The way he said the names ‘Link’ and ‘Zelda’ openly, like the danger they came with never occurred to him; how he seemed so out of touch with the world around him; even his strange appearance and mannerisms.

But he was a hero. That one fact stubbornly remained through all Hyrule’s creeping doubts. Hyrule had seen the Triforce on Wild’s hand with his own eyes. That had to mean something.

“It’s not impossible,” Hyrule insisted. Wild locked onto him with desperate, vulnerable hope written in every inch of his frame. It twisted his heart. “Wild is one of the nine chosen Heroes. I saw it, myself; the same way I saw how that stablehand was going to attack you, Legend.” He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake by telling this. “I can see that he has a piece of the Triforce. And that Twilight and I have it, too.”

Hyrule watched Legend for his reaction. His stomach sank when the other boy’s expression shut like a door, his eyes flattening. Hyrule knew Legend didn’t believe them before he even opened his mouth.

“Look,” Legend said. His eyes stayed firmly on the ground. “I’m grateful to you for saving my life. I want to be clear about that. And you three can have jobs in my household as long as you want them, that’s only fair of me to offer you. But if you’re gonna go off playing ‘Chosen Heroes,’ don’t try to drag me into it.”

He stood, brushing the grass and pebbles from his legs. “And if you’re smart, you’ll give up on that fairytale before you get hurt. You’ll get a lot more done by sticking to real life.”

“It’s not a _fairytale!”_

Hyrule startled and Legend stopped in his tracks, equally dumbfounded. Twilight was on his feet, snarling through gritted teeth. Hyrule had never seen him so angry. “People have fought and died on the hope that the Goddess has chosen a group of people with the power to _do_ something about all this. If someone tells me it’s my job to make sure they didn’t die in vain, then _like all Nayru’s depths am I gonna ignore it.”_

For one single moment, Legend stayed petrified. Then he scoffed, turned, and walked away.

Twilight slammed down into the pebbles on crossed legs and poked at the fire. His bangs fell over his eyes, obscuring his face. His turmoil still wrote itself clearly in the set of his shoulders, though; he focused all his intensity on stoking the flames.

“I’m sorry…” Wild said. “I didn’t mean to start a fight about it.”

At Wild’s clear misery, Twilight gathered himself. Hyrule could see him making the effort to reign in his anger. “Don’t be. And don’t worry. We believe you.” He gave Wild a wan smile. “Before you lost your memories, you must have found one of the Princesses out there somewhere. If you remember where she is, maybe we can find her again.”

“I remember us traveling a lot,” Wild offered. As he thought, he took the fish that Twilight had put so close to the heat of the campfire and stuck them back where he’d put them with a sense of finality. “She lives in the castle, but doesn’t feel at home, there. It was where her father always wanted her to be, but she always felt like she was supposed to be out seeing the world.”

Legend’s figure drifted, barely visible at a little distance over the hills. Hyrule was torn. Guilt told him he should go after Legend and make sure he was alright, but he wanted to make sure to give him his space. He didn’t want to make anything worse.

Unsure of himself, he settled for keeping watch from where he was.

Behind him, Twilight was confused and asking something about why this girl’s father would want her at the castle, which only circled back to Wild saying that was ‘where she lived.’ Twilight gave up on that line of questioning and tried asking whether Wild remembered any other people that might be helpful.

“Maybe. The…memory that came back last night…” Wild hesitated. “I don’t know if it’s really helpful. But…I think—I know. It’s someone I want to find again.”  
  
“Last night, when I was wrapping up your shoulder?” Twilight asked. “Did that bring something back?”

“Yeah. Like I said, though, it wasn’t very helpful for being able to find him. I just remembered somebody sitting behind me, cleaning an injury I had. He was worried. Things were going…bad, I don’t remember why exactly. But having him around made me feel safe.”

Wild hid behind his hair at the admission and went quiet.

Hyrule waited until he was looking, then gave him a small, encouraging smile. “Sounds like someone I want to meet.”

Shyly, Wild smiled back. “I might remember someone else, but I’m—it’s confusing. Because—I think I’m remembering two different people named Zelda? One was my age, but the other was older and looked different.”

“I mean,” Twilight raised an eyebrow, “considering the name we all have. Stands to reason you could meet multiple Princesses named Zelda.”

Hyrule still kept one eye on Legend, so he could see when the young noble swung his arms, stretching his shoulders, and peered back toward their group clustered around the fire. He grabbed a stick from the ground and dragged it along through the bushes, starting to make his way back.

“I’m…” Wild squinted. “Fairly sure the _older_ one was the one whose father was the king. I think.”

“Whose—!?” Twilight repeated and broke off. “Whose father was—”

“—as in _Lullaby?”_ Hyrule finished. “Like, as in the _Fallen Princess?_ Wild, how long were you asleep?!”

“The Champion.”

Wild snapped to look at Twilight. When recognition lit in his eyes at the name, Twilight shook his head in disbelief.

“You can’t be the Champion. He was five years older than me; if he was still alive, he’d be in his mid-twenties, and you’re still a teenager.”

Hyrule and Wild were both staring now. “How do you know that?” Hyrule asked.

“Because…my dad wrote to me about him after they met.” A weight settled over Twilight in the dappled shade of the trees. “He was the Hero of Time.”

Close enough now to hear, Legend stopped.

Hyrule studied Twilight in new, quiet wonder, unsurprised and yet still speechless all at once. The clues had stacked together long before now. Twilight’s lost father was a mysterious figure who invited more questions than answers, who was an enemy to the Empire and a friend to the creatures of the forest. Twilight told the story of the Fallen Hero with a sense of personal grief that lurked painfully close. It only made sense.

The son of the Hero of Time. If anyone in the world had a right to be counted among the ranks of the new chosen heroes, it was him.

“That’s what they called me.” Wild thumbed the frayed hem of his blue tunic. “In my memories, people called me the Goddess’s Champion. I don’t know why. I think…I didn’t want them to.”

Twilight opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I know you don’t remember much. You said there were only a handful of details you got, and the rest is gone. But if there’s some way you really are the Champion, do you think…I mean, is it possible you might remember anything about my dad?”

When Wild went quiet, Twilight backtracked quickly. “It’s okay if you don’t, I understand, it’s really not—”

“No, I’m—I might.” Wild chewed his lip. “The day I just remembered, Zelda and I were out on the road when she wanted to show me the flower. I don’t know where we were going, but I think someone else was with us. When she—she found a frog,” he fell back to explain, “she tried to make me eat it and kept trying to tell me it had some kind of magical properties or something. There was someone else there who was laughing at us. He seems…I think that was him.”

Wild smiled, caught in the memory. “He didn’t call me ‘Champion.’ In my memory, he called me ‘Link.’”

Twilight huffed a quiet, awestruck laugh. His eyes shone and he sniffed.

“Sorry,” Wild said. “I wish I could tell you more.”

“No,” Twilight reassured him. “It’s—that’s—" He grinned and scrubbed at his eyes, taking a deep breath. “That’s good. I’m glad to know there’s another happy memory of him out there in the world.”

Legend coughed. Twilight twisted, defensive anger already rising when he discovered their audience, but Legend beat him to the punch. “I shouldn’t have said those things. Even without knowing—I’m sorry.” He focused on a point somewhere on the ground in front of Twilight.

It took a second for Twilight to deflate and catch up to what he was hearing. When he did, the aggression drained out of him slowly, pooling until only tired acceptance remained. “It’s…I understand. A lot of people are tired of waiting. It seems like things are only getting worse. I shouldn’t have let my anger get the best of me.”

Legend looked up. Whatever he found in Twilight’s face, he nodded. “Wild, it sounds like…I don’t know. I don’t know how that can work, but maybe there is something to this whole ‘you-know-Zelda’ thing. So.”

“Glad to have your approval, boss-man,” Wild drawled. But he grinned as he said it and gave Legend one of the fish in a peace offering.

Relief settled on Legend’s shoulders and he accepted the fish, rejoining the circle of the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Four gets a visitor. (And then a partner in crime.)


	10. Conspiracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four gets a visitor. (And then a partner in crime.)

Someone knocked a five-note pattern against Four’s door.

Green, Blue, Red, and Vio all collectively paused to try to process through that.

“I’ll get it!” Red crowed, before Vio anticipated his dart for the door and scooped him back.

 _“We’ll_ get it,” Vio corrected, “after we re-fuse.” Red pouted.

Green picked up the Four Sword—he kept it on him at all times, now, for fear of being caught without it again. The next time, they probably wouldn’t be so lucky. “Who would come to visit us?” He wondered out loud. “That would bother to knock, I mean. Vaati would have butted in by now.”

“What if he did,” Blue fantasized, “and I just, you know…’got startled’ and happened to run him through a few times with a poker? People shouldn’t sneak up on blacksmiths, it’s just common sense…” He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows.

“Plan B,” Green promised. The four of them came together and took hold of the sword.

“Trust me,” was the last thing Vio said before they merged, “my plan B is _much_ better than that—”

Four put the sword back in its hiding place and nodded at Vio’s plan running through his mind, impressed. “Kinda convoluted, but creative use of horseshoes. We can hold onto that one.”

That settled, he answered the door and found all thoughts fleeing his mind when he was face to face with a girl.

“Um,” he said eloquently.

“Hi,” she said back. “I’m Dot.”

They stared at each other.

“Or, um…Zelda? But it gets kinda confusing, cause there’s so many Zeldas here, so it makes more sense to call me Dot. I’m so used to it, it might as well be my real name, honestly I might not answer to Zelda at this point. I’ll just think you’re talking about someone else.”

“What are you doing here?” Four blurted. It came out kind of rude and he cursed himself immediately.

“Oh!” She grinned sunnily and held up a cloth-wrapped bundle. “I brought food! From Malon! I probably should have started with that.” She leaned around to peer over Four’s shoulder. A few strands of her strawberry blonde hair escaped from their ponytail where she had them tied back with a fraying ribbon. “Malon told us about you and I wanted to meet you in person! We never get to meet new people—at least, not friendly ones. I’ve never seen a blacksmith forge up close before. Can I come in?”

“…sure.” He pulled aside to let her in. “Please don’t touch those—!” He scrambled after her when she made a beeline for his tool rack.

“Why?” She asked, prodding with a finger, “Are—ack!” She shook out the finger. “Cause, uh, cause they’re sharp, huh. Sorry.” She laughed easily and kept her hands to herself. “Oh, here!”

She held out the bundle of food. Still a little stunned, Four took it and let it hang in the air. “Thanks.”

As soon as her hands were free, she was peering into the depths of his fire, blinking back a puff of soot that blew right into her face. _“Cool._ What are you making? How do you keep the metal from melting when you put it in? Have you ever accidentally made something explode?”

Having someone so genuinely interested in his work was a foreign experience for Four. Her enthusiasm heartened him, though, and he found his words coming back. “Tools and stuff, mostly. Some weapons. The fire has to be pretty hot to melt anything; I spend more time keeping it from dying down. And yes,” he shook his head wryly, “trust me, there are a lot of things in a forge that can explode.”

 _“Awesome,”_ she whispered.

Four laughed and unwrapped the bundle she’d given him to see what was inside. When he did, he nearly started crying on the spot. A handful of honeyed rolls were still warm to the touch, piled on top of a generous helping of venison and spiced sausages. He fumbled to keep a few grapes from rolling to the floor, holding them in next to a bright yellow apple.

“Malon’s _amazing.”_ Dot gushed, seeing the look on his face. “We’ve been trying to get into the kitchens for years, and then she just,” Dot snapped her fingers, awestruck. “Got right in, just like that. I ate so many pastries I almost _threw up.”_ She sounded dangerously close to bragging.

Four’s attention snagged on _‘we’ve been trying to get into the kitchens for years,’_ even though Dot tried to rush past it, and he felt guilty. Prisoners were prisoners—whether a princess or a blacksmith, Four guessed they must all eat the same. “Do you want some?” He offered her the armful clutched close to his chest.

She blinked. “Thank you.” For the first time since she’d barged in, her flood of words slowed. “But no,” she urged, subdued, “go ahead, eat it. I’ve already had plenty.”

After the first bite, he couldn’t bring himself to argue. He might have been biased, considering what he was used to eating at this point, but Four was sure this was the best food he had ever tasted in his life.

Dot heaved herself up to sit on a table, letting her feet swing back and forth. “If Malon’s _already_ in the kitchen,” she began, holding up two fingers as if invisibly connecting dots, “and I disguised myself, like if I got a handkerchief to cover my hair and I kept my head down, and I pretended to be a maid or something…maybe I could just _follow_ her…and nobody would think twice about it, right?”

Four shrugged. He didn’t know why she was asking him of all people, when he just moved to the castle and she barely knew him, but he swallowed his bite and offered, “Depends on how many people can recognize you by sight. Also on how normal it is for them to get new people working in the kitchen. It’s not a bad idea!” He added when she started to look discouraged, “I just don’t know how bad it would be if you got caught. It depends on if it’s worth it.”

She sighed. “Probably not. I just…want to _do_ something. Anything is better than this _waiting_ every day for something to change.” She kneaded the faded pink skirt of her dress. “I’m sick of it. Just for once in my life, I want to try something dangerous.”

Her words hit Four painfully close to home. Sitting right in the heart of the castle like this made him feel more like a bug under a magnifying glass than ever. If he stepped one toe out of line, he was sure someone would know. Even still, it grated deeply against the fabric of his nature to sit by and do nothing.

He took a breath to tell her so, but he was cut off when she scrunched her legs up to her chest and demanded, “What are _those?!”_

He followed her pointing finger and jolted. A handful of Minish were poking their noses out from behind his tool rack. Probably, he realized a little too late, drawn by the smell of food. He did a double take, but sure enough, Dot seemed to be pointing right at them.

“You can see them?” Four asked anyway.

“Are those mice?” Dot hugged her legs close. “They don’t look like mice. Are they wearing _hats?!”_

Four edged closer, wondering if he should be worried. The Minish seemed cautious at the attention, but also weren’t running away to hide. They sniffed curiously in Dot’s direction. “They’re…my friends. They’re called the Minish.”

Dot scared twenty years off of Four’s life by shrieking in delight and running to crouch for a better look. “They’re so little! You’re so small!” She told them, ecstatic.

 _“I’m big for a Minish!”_ Tenmari arrived to add his urgent input. He jockeyed over the others through their crack in the wall. _“She means the rest of you are small.”_ The others ignored him. They had a lot of practice.

 _“Is this a new friend of yours?”_ Kel pushed Tenmari back to sniff at Dot’s finger with wry amusement. 

_“I…guess so? Her name is Dot. She’s one of the Princesses—they’re here!”_ Four exclaimed, remembering suddenly that he hadn’t told them yet, _“Like the stories about the Heroes and Princesses that will defeat Ganon. There are Princesses here in the castle!”_

“Are you talking to them?” Dot asked. “What are they saying?”

“Oh, sorry!” Four had forgotten that she wouldn’t be able to understand them. “They were asking me about you, so I was telling them who you are.” 

“Is that a _baby?!”_ Dot shrieked again, utterly distracted. Sure enough, one of the littlest Minish—probably one of Kel’s more adventurous baby cousins, if Four had to guess—had been trying to investigate what all the commotion was about. At her raised voice, the Minish in question scampered back behind the safety of Kel’s legs.

“I’m sorry!” Dot softened her voice to a whisper. “I didn’t mean to scare them. Can you tell them I’m sorry?”

 _“It’s okay,”_ Four tried to translate. _“She said she won’t be loud again. She wants to meet you.”_

Kel gave her baby cousin an encouraging nudge. _“Don’t worry. Only good children can see the Minish.”_ To Four, she added, _“Your new friend must be very special, Tall-Friend.”_

 _“Huh. Can all good children really see you?”_ Four never knew.

Dot held still as stone, entranced. Creeping one step at a time, the baby Minish tiptoed closer until it was in touching distance of her fingers where they rested on the table’s surface. It stretched out and ever-so-lightly put the tip of its nose to the pad of her index finger. Its boldness spent, the baby Minish retreated and disappeared somewhere behind Four’s tool rack.

“I’m gonna cry,” Dot warned, barely managing to keep her voice low as it wobbled. “This is the best day of my life.”

 _“Yes, they can.”_ Kel grinned at her, warm and full of fondness. _“And this Princess is good. You should tell her about your plan. You could use more big-sized hands to help.”_

Four examined Dot. Well, he mused darkly, she did say she wanted to try something dangerous. If anything went wrong with this, it could definitely end up in that category very quickly.

“What I’m _really_ working on,” he told her, “is for them. I used to be able to do more, but here in the middle of the castle…I had to narrow some things down. But I’m not giving up. I’m gonna find a way to help them.”

“Help them? Are they in danger?” Dot’s excitement dampened. She inspected the Minish as if looking them over for signs of trouble right then and there.

Four rose and went to retrieve one of his crates. “They can’t stay here. A long time ago, back when the Castle Town Minish still lived alongside the royal family in peace, one of them named Vaati—”

A round of spitting passed through the Minish. Dot raised her eyebrows.

“—discovered some dark magic,” Four continued. Moving aside a stack of plaster molds, he unearthed the abandoned empty crate he’d found when he moved in. He grunted, dragging it out. “He used it…to turn himself into a Hylian mage. But his hunger for power never stopped growing. After Ganon took over, he must have worked his way up in the army’s ranks until he became a general. That’s where he is now.”

He dusted off his hands, careful of splinters. “But he hates the other Minish, now. I don’t know why—maybe he doesn’t like being reminded of who he really is, or who he used to be or whatever.”

One of the Minish clambered up to his shoulder and gripped the edge of his ear for balance. It was such a common habit now that Four wouldn’t have noticed if Dot hadn’t been staring avidly.

Four had his own theory for why Vaati acted the way he did. “Probably,” he confided in Dot, “it’s because he knows that they’re stronger than they look, and he’s the only one that actually knows they could be a threat, if they wanted to be.” He used a finger to scratch the head of his little passenger. The Minish trilled in appreciation and fluffed her fur, nuzzling into his touch.

Four’s heart ached. He didn’t know how anyone could want to hurt such kind creatures. “But they don’t. The Minish don’t fight in Hylian wars, they don’t take sides and they aren’t spies or assassins. They don’t want any part in bloodshed. They just want to live in peace.”

He turned to Dot, hoping she understood. “I want to make that possible. They deserve a happy life without having to worry about Vaati or anything else.”

Her eyes shone. “That’s really brave of you,” she said quietly.

Brave?

“It’s not, really.” He felt heat rush to his face. Four couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt brave. “The Minish have saved me more than anything I can do for them. I just want to try to repay them, if I can.”

Determination was starting to build in Dot. Four could see it on her face. She stood, clutching her hands in fists. “I want to help you. Is there anything I can do?”

Encouragement rose in him at her readiness, quickening his pulse with hope. “Well, it would take some teaching. But an extra pair of hands when you can spare them could make things move quicker. Here, look.”

He hefted the lid of the crate and set it aside. Together, he and Dot peered inside. Nestled in a heap of straw, a line of cast-iron cylinders lay with their rounded points set in a gleaming row. “What are they?” Dot asked, leaning over to pry one up. She frowned in confusion when it came away hollow; where the straw made it look like a whole cylinder sat buried there, she instead found only a semicircle of metal with the bottom missing.

“Cannon shells,” Four explained. “At least, that’s what they’ll _look_ like. They should smell convincing, too. As far as the Minish have told me, the sulfur scent is strong enough to pass for gunpowder. In terms of what they’re _really_ for…”

The Minish riding on his shoulder darted down his sleeve and burrowed into the straw. After some digging and wriggling, her head emerged from beneath the artificial cannon shell and she put a finger playfully to her lips.

“You’re going to try to sneak them out,” Dot realized.

Four put down a hand for the Minish to use as a ladder. “That’s the idea. I couldn’t risk making more convincing shells without the chance that they’d get trapped inside, so most of it hinges on making sure nobody checks very close. I have to find a time that everyone’ll be too distracted—that’s something else you might be able to help with,” he added.

“I’ll ask the other Princesses,” Dot agreed. “If that’s okay, I mean. Can I tell them? I promise you can trust them.”

Four’s chest swelled. The Princesses themselves? “Do you really think they’d want to help? They might be too old to see the Minish, and I’m sure they have other things to worry about.”

“They would,” she told him with conviction. “If there’s people who need help and we can actually do something about it, they’ll want to know. I’m not the only one who’s tired of being stuck here, powerless.”

Crouching by the beginnings of his half-baked plan, leaned in close like this with Dot, Four was beginning to feel giddy with the thrill of conspiracy. He was going to do something daring; he was going to sneak the Minish out right under the Emperor’s nose, with the help of the Princesses he’d heard so many stories about. He was starting to feel like he had a real chance.

“Then tell them,” he said. “And let them know to stay on the lookout for our opening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's minish appreciation hours babey
> 
> (Dot is the Zelda of Minish Cap, Four Swords, and Four Swords Adventures) 
> 
> A little bit of a shorter chapter this time, but coming up next is a good one that's really important to me
> 
> A quick note: We're coming up in a couple chapters on the end of part one, which is what I have written from this summer so far. Up to that point, I have rough drafts that I've been editing and posting from; afterward, I don't know what my posting schedule is gonna be like, but I'll do my best to keep things moving! 
> 
> Next time: Warriors catches up. Hyrule discovers something Legend has been hiding.


	11. La Forza del Destino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warriors catches up. Hyrule discovers something Legend has been hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the end for warnings

The road was long and weary, stretching out farther than Sky thought he was ever capable of walking. But they couldn’t stop. Always, he scanned the high, rocky ridge above, turning exhausted suspicion on the thick-trunked trees that rose from golden grass around them. He couldn’t see anything out of place. But he couldn’t _tell_ what would be out of place. And so he circled back again to searching.

So far, Artemis’s eyes had been able to save them. He hoped it would continue to be enough.

“We can’t keep going on like this.” Sun scrubbed at her sweaty face, tugging her rolled sleeves up from where they’d slid back down. “Sky and I are too slow. We’re not used to walking for this long; he’s going to keep catching up.”

She didn’t have to clarify who. The Imperial soldier they’d met back at the inn was relentless in tailing them, always appearing just when they thought they’d finally managed to lose him.

“No,” Artemis agreed. She twisted her long braid up in her hands, relieving what must be sweltering heat on the back of her neck. “We can’t.” She said it with grim resolution.

The longer Sky remained on the world of the surface, the more out of place he felt. Skyloft was no perfect utopia—it had its own fair share of conflict, and Sky himself had experienced plenty of grief at the hands of Groose over the years. But that was bullying, mainly teasing and taunts. He’d never met people who wanted to really _hurt_ him before. Compared to the peace of Skyloft, where the only real enemies he’d found lived in stories and the memories of elders, the Empire and its dogged pursuit felt unreal, unbelievable. It seemed impossible to escape.

Nothing made any sense. “I just don’t understand,” Sky said. “This guy’s not anything like Ghirahim. He’s so _nice_ —how can they be on the same side?”

Artemis made a noise in the back of her throat. “Being nice doesn’t mean anything. He’s sided with Ganon. That tells me all I need to know about what’s really important to him. And that,” she emphasized, turning to Sky and Sun, “is why we can’t risk him following us to where we’re going. Go over the directions I gave you again.”

In a monotone, they rattled off her instructions. They were to follow the road east until it skirted the ocean, then look for a stable by a lake. After that, the road should take them northward into a forested region, where they would keep an eye out for platforms in the treetops. That was their signal to leave the road, heading into the jungle until they came to stone ruins and a huge dragon’s mouth. They couldn’t miss it, she’d assured them.

“You’re not coming with us, are you?” Sun matched Artemis’s pace, sad and uneasy in equal measures.

“Like I said. Someone needs to keep Imperial eyes far away from the rebels.” Beneath the wraps concealing her face, though, Artemis’s eyes were soft. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help more, but I know the two of you can handle yourselves. Trust in your abilities and don’t let the unfamiliar landscape throw you.”

Sky nodded. He edged closer to Sun, thinned his lips, and tried to psych himself up. _Do it. Come on. Just reach for her hand. It’s right there._

He took a deep breath and brushed his hand against hers. Beneath the nervousness and the blotchy flush of heat exhaustion, a grateful smile graced her lips. She laced their fingers together. Sky’s heart swelled in triumph.

\---

The flat bowl of the golden grasslands ended abruptly, with only stubborn, scraggly clumps of dry weeds managing to cling to the high lip of the valley. When Warriors finally found a break in the ridge that allowed him to climb it, he emerged to a world dipped in vibrant green, dusky blue hills lining the horizon.

It also meant he was blind for a little while to the path ahead. He found that it came to a bridge that, in a word, could be described as spindly. Precarious supports stretched far below, bowing under the weight of the wooden boards. A few tattered banners flapped from a splintered handrail.

Sheik was waiting at the other end. She leaned in a long, easy line against one of the supports, deceptively calm under the high noon sun. With the wind floating the fraying ends of her wrappings, she could almost be another one of the banners but for how her eyes glinted, hard and ready.

Behind her, the two escaped prisoners caught sight of him and started to run.

“Hey! Get back here!” Warriors pounded out onto the bridge.

Sheik pushed off of the support and strode to the center of the bridge, blocking his path.

Warriors halted in his tracks.

The two faced each other from a distance. “You want to stay and fight, then?” He challenged warily. Both lay in wait, motionless, thrumming with anticipation to see who would make the first move.

The heat of the sun beat down with a physical weight, turning the wind that chafed Warriors’s face and lifted his hair scorching. The other two were getting away; he needed to make a move, and he needed to do it now. But he needed to choose his strategy carefully. This mysterious fighter was proving dangerously sharp. The first wrong move would be it for him.

Sheik had him beat in agility, but Warriors might be willing to gamble on him having her beat in strength. His best chance would be to rush her and try to muscle past with sheer force.

Warriors took his shield from his back and readied his grip. Sheik drew two of her daggers, crouching low.

Warriors coiled, then sprung. He sprinted over the creaking boards, sending the bridge rattling and swaying on its thin supports, pouring all his strength into building up speed. By the time he reached Sheik, he was throwing his momentum into his shield and knocking her back against the railing. 

Rather than stumbling or pushing back, though, Sheik surprised him by yielding to the shove. She launched back onto the rail, catching herself on her hands, and was bringing her feet up to ram into him before he had time to react. Warriors found _himself_ stumbling into the opposite rail, rather than the other way around.

His battered lungs wheezed, pain bruising across his back. He barely managed to get his shield up in time to block Sheik’s daggers. The blades’ edges ground against the iron rim of his shield as the two locked into a struggle against each other, Sheik bearing down with all her strength against Warriors holding her off, the railing digging into his lower back.

The other two were getting away. He was running out of time.

Warriors thought fast. Taking a cue from Sheik, he used her movement to his advantage and dropped, crouching to the dusty wooden planks. He then slammed his shield upward and felt a surge of pride when he caught Sheik by surprise—she lost her footing and landed on her back.

His victory was short-lived. From the ground, Sheik was able to lash out at his feet, sending _him_ sprawling. In his moment of distraction, she pinned his shield beneath her feet, trapping his arm. With two daggers plunging down toward his chest, Warriors had no choice but to abandon the shield to avoid being skewered.

He made a mournful noise when she kicked it over the edge of the bridge, sending it echoing down into the chasm below. “My shield! I loved that shield!”

“Don’t worry,” Sheik answered, “you won’t miss it for long.”

Warriors sighed and drew his sword, fighting down the beginnings of a spark of fear. His main goal in this fight was to incapacitate and, if possible, capture Sheik alive. The two escaped prisoners were out of sight by now, leaving her as the only lead he had left.

Sheik clearly had no such reservations about how this fight would end for Warriors.

With renewed determination, the two met in a ringing clash. Without his shield, Warriors was a lot faster and lighter on his feet; otherwise, he’d have been dead in seconds.

Even as he skirted the edge of death, though, Warriors thrummed with the thrill of a battle that made him feel so _alive_ —every muscle in his body was pushed to the limit of its reflexes, every second of his thoughts racing to keep up the pace. In a lifetime of fighting, he’d never met someone that made him feel so evenly matched.

Their blades weaved in a deadly dance, Warriors darting from Sheik’s swift lunges and Sheik dodging Warriors’s sweeping strikes, passing bare inches away from each other. He would throw Sheik only for her to land and pounce back without missing a step. She would feint around his guard only for him to catch her next strike. The rhythm of the fight sang through his blood.

One of the bridge’s banners smacked against his arm and he seized it, finding his advantage. He cast it into Sheik’s face and drew it tight, throwing her off balance. Caught off guard, she found herself trapped. He had her.

Until she buried her dagger in the canvas and cut a wide gash, putting a considerable slash on Warriors’s arm in the process. He stumbled backward, clutching at the slice and feeling his hand grow wet with blood.

Sheik was up on the railing again. His left arm burning, Warriors passed his sword to his weaker right arm and tried to take a swipe at her feet. She zeroed in on the opening ruthlessly. Burying one dagger in the wood to stop his blade, she planted her split-toed boots and pinned the sword beneath her weight.

Panic flashed through Warriors. If she got ahold of his sword, he’d be weaponless. In one last surge of desperation, he took the sword in both hands, ignored his screaming wound, and wrenched it up.

His sword came free. But in the process, the force of his pull tipped Sheik from her perch. A dark swoop of horror surprised Warriors by rising in his stomach as he watched her disappear over the edge of the bridge.

“Sheik? Sheik!” He leaned over the railing and frantically scanned the distant depths below.

A hand caught his dangling scarf. He only had time for a choked-off cry before the scarf was tight around his neck and he was pitching headfirst into the open air.

The bridge disappeared. He was falling. On reflex, he thrust out his hands, scrambling for purchase. The tips of his fingers met canvas. He buried them in the fabric and felt his heart leave through his throat when they halted his fall, then gave out as the fraying banner he grabbed started to rip under his weight. 

The tearing stopped and the banner held. Warriors spun at the end, trembling from the effort to keep his hold even with his injured left arm protesting the abuse. He heaved for breath and tried to calm his ratcheting pulse.

Looking back up at the bridge, he saw Sheik’s form swinging from beam to beam beneath the planks. She made one false start, then heaved herself up to the top. She collapsed in a crouch, panting.

He couldn’t tell whether she checked to see if he survived. He wasn’t sure what he’d have done if she _did_ and decided she should to finish the job. Either way, she disappeared from his sight, trudging her way to the road heading south.

It was slow, painstaking work getting back to solid ground. The banner he clung to held on by a few stubborn inches of fabric, forcing him to ease his weight as much as possible with each pull upward. When he finally crawled out across the boards the first thing he did was flop on his back, too tired even to hold his aching arm.

It was a good try, he allowed, gazing up at the clouds.

But he wasn’t going to be that easy to get rid of.

* * *

In hindsight, it would have maybe been good for Hyrule to seek out a new sword _before_ he went hunting through Legend’s staff for Yiga spies. The thought occurred to him, as rational thoughts often did, once he’d already entered the dangerous situation in question. He didn’t survive this long on his own by ignoring his instincts, and this scenario went against pretty much every one of them.

The impulse to avoid suspicion battled his desire to clutch his dagger in both hands and find a strategic escape route. He reminded himself again that he had friends at his side, now, watching out for him.

“Is this everyone?” Legend asked. A handful of servants, guards, and other members of the household milled around the courtyard, ranging from curious to irritated. Hyrule, nervous and keyed into their every move, picked out a pair of kitchen workers speculating on whether this unexplained meeting could possibly lead to a pay raise.

“It is,” said a severe woman with a tight bun. “Does that mean you’re going to tell us what this is about?” From the respectful, slightly intimidated way the others treated her, Hyrule pegged her as most likely a head housekeeper. He and housekeepers didn’t tend to get along; they usually didn’t take kindly to dirty vagabonds digging through their gardens. He tried to sort out whether his nervousness toward her was of the magical variety or more mundane, everyday anxiety. Being a seer was confusing.

Legend elbowed Hyrule and dragged him out of his thoughts. “Well?” Legend urged.

“Oh!” Hyrule scanned the people present and tried to look for any visible signs of evil. He couldn’t find any. “I, um. I’ll get back to you in a minute.”

Legend sighed, hiking up Hyrule’s stress level even more. He’d never tried to do this before, okay? Excuse him if he stalled for a minute before painting a huge sign on his forehead that said ‘Yiga please come kill me.’

While Legend stalled by poking around asking about suspicious behavior, Hyrule closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. When he’d looked for the Triforce symbol on Wild’s hand, he’d done it by making physical contact. He remembered, though, that he’d also felt a kind of tug behind his eyes; it hummed in his bones, warm like the feeling of a hot drink going down through his chest. He tried to pull on that feeling now, imagining reaching out with his mind to spread his senses across the courtyard. After a moment, the heartbeat sensation returned to him. He felt the presences of his friends standing guard nearby. It reassured him.

From farther out, he also began to notice another feeling. Like the steady, lazy waves of a lake, something cold and sinister lapped at his skin that exuded dark malice.

Hyrule shivered and opened his eyes. Amongst the people gathered, nine pairs of inverted red eyes were starting straight at him. “Nine,” he murmured in Legend’s ear.

 _“Nine?”_ Legend hissed.

“The one on the far right with the leather gloves on, that maid in the blue dress, the guard with the beard, the other two standing by the bush—”

“What’s he saying?” When both Legend and Hyrule had looked to the guards standing by the bush, one eyed them back shrewdly. “What’s going on with that boy’s eyes?”

“That woman with the braids on her head,” Hyrule tried to talk faster, but it was too late. When Legend turned to find the woman in question, the guard who had spoken swore and drew his sword.

“We’ve been made!” He shouted, and the courtyard erupted into chaos.

“Twilight! Wild!” Hyrule called. “Behind you!” They turned just in time to meet the others Hyrule hadn’t had time to mention—what looked like the head cook and most of the kitchen workers—rushing toward them. “The cook,” he warned Legend, “and those kitchen workers—”

“Got it,” Legend confirmed. He met the guard’s blade with his own and demanded, “What have I ever done to you? What have I ever done to you! I’m here minding my own _goddess-forsaken business,”_ he dispatched the guard, who didn’t seem keen on answering. His partner made some elaborate declaration of loyalty to the Emperor and Hyrule used his dagger to intercept him from eviscerating Legend from behind.

“’Ey!” Legend snapped at a kitchen worker escaping through the front gate. “Where do you think you’re going?” He raised his sword and Hyrule pushed it back down.

“Not that one, that one’s okay.” The poor young woman’s eyes were normal in his sight.

“Oh. My bad!” Legend waved apologetically. Together, he and Hyrule put the other two treacherous guards out of commission. They then rushed to aid Twilight, who was facing off against all the rogue kitchen workers on his own while Wild handled the cook and the maid.

Something tugged at the back of Hyrule’s mind. Someone was missing. One more of the Yiga spies, the man with the leather gloves…

“Hyrule!” Legend yanked him out of the way. A searing line opened in Hyrule’s side and a knife that was meant to run through his spine only cut under his ribs, still enough to make him choke at the pain. He hunched into himself, curling his arms around his torso and willing the white-hot agony to recede.

Legend pulled Hyrule’s dazed form behind him, shielding him with one arm while he passed his sword to the other and parried against the man in leather gloves. Hyrule gritted his teeth, trying to fight through the pain so he could help.

While he did, his eyes fell to his feet. Looking down, he suddenly felt like someone had knocked the ground from beneath him as well.

Legend’s left hand was braced in front of Hyrule, radiating golden light as the Triforce of Courage flared in his magical vision.

Hyrule’s gaze snapped up to Legend’s face. Nothing else looked different. He was still rigid with concentration getting around the tricky knifework of his opponent, still throwing back glances over his shoulder to check for stragglers. There was nothing there to indicate the staggering realization spinning in Hyrule’s mind that _he was one of them, he was one of them, all this time, he was one of them—_

The man with the leather gloves finally fell and Legend had a moment to put his hands on his knees, taking a heavy breath. The others, likewise, were winding down and finishing their fight. Legend caught sight of Hyrule and grew worried again. “Are you alright? Hang in there, I have a red potion—"

“Your hand!” Hyrule blurted. He couldn’t seem to look away from the symbol shining there. “Legend, you’re…”

Legend glanced down at his hand, swore, then swore again. He looked away and swore a third time.

“Later,” he said to Hyrule, under his breath. “Don’t tell the others. Promise me you won’t say anything.” The intensity in his eyes teetered between rage and desperation—Hyrule didn’t feel like taking his chances with which one would win.

“I—okay. Okay.” The second time it came out quiet and Legend was already gone. He passed his red potion on to Twilight, who accepted it with some concern and came to check on Hyrule’s injury.

Hyrule watched Legend’s receding back, left to reel with his revelation on his own.

\---

They barely saw hide or hair of Legend for the rest of the day. He stuck around long enough to make sure they were all alright and to more fully explain the situation to what remained of his staff, then vanished. Wild and Twilight debated checking on him, but at Hyrule’s request decided against it.

Hyrule kept to his word. Though the secret burned his tongue, he didn’t tell the others what he’d seen.

When, by late that night, they still hadn’t heard from him, Hyrule decided it was time to seek him out. He, Twilight, and Wild had spent the rest of the day discussing their plans for the future and, much to Hyrule’s protest, he’d been nominated for the job of go-between to Legend and official investigator of his strange behavior.

Twilight and Wild shoved him out into the hall, giving him a hearty nudge in the direction of Legend’s room at the other end and a round of encouraging thumbs up before snapping their door shut behind him.

Hyrule wrung the hem of his tunic and padded down the long, carpeted hallway. A thousand questions swarmed in his mind. Did Legend know he was a chosen hero? He must have, to react the way he did. Why didn’t he say anything when they told him who they were?

He tried not to be hurt, feeling childish. Of course, Hyrule—who was starved for meaningful bonds and who latched onto his fellow heroes with desperate hunger—would hold the connection in such high importance. It wasn’t fair of him to demand the same of others.

 _If Hyrule hadn’t said anything, would Legend have never told them?_ The question stung more than it should.

“Hey, um, Legend?” He tried to shake the bitterness and bury it deep. “Can I talk to you about some stuff? Me and…Twilight and Wild have been talking about plans.”

He reached the end of the hall without a response. There was light spilling out from Legend’s doorway, though, flickering from a lantern somewhere within. That meant he probably wasn’t sleeping, right? Hyrule figured Legend must not have heard him.

“Legend…?” He poked his head through Legend’s doorway. Wait, were you not supposed to go into people’s rooms? Was it okay if the person was there, or were you supposed to stay outside and knock, like a house? Hyrule made a half step back, wrong-footed and out of practice interacting with people.

It didn’t matter. As far as he could see, Legend wasn’t in the room to care. It was definitely…an interesting room, though. The number of things to look at piling on the floor, hanging in rows on the walls, and decorating every surface made his head spin. Hyrule frowned, wondering where Legend could have gone that he’d still leave his lantern lit in the meantime.

“Legend?” Hyrule called one more time down the hall. Nothing.

He was out of ideas. At least now he could tell the others he tried, and they’d leave it alone until morning. Hyrule pivoted and started back down the hall.

“Oh, um. Sorry. In here.”

He stopped and hunted for the source of Legend’s voice. Scanning the darkened hallway, warm with tapestries glinting in the dim glow of the light from Legends’s room, he noticed something he hadn’t before.

The door across from Legend’s room was open. Oh.

Hyrule crept closer. “That’s okay. I can come back later if you’re busy, it can wait until morning.”

“Nah. It’s fine. You can come in.” Legend’s voice was dull and flat.

Spurred on by a twist of concern, Hyrule breached the doorway into the banned room.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but what he found himself in was undeniably a bedroom. The shape of it, he noticed, was similar to Legend’s room. If Legend’s room was dipped in a riot of purples, at least. It had a rich canopy bed like his, with its own more modest collection of items; though where Legend’s seemed more obviously magical or valuable, these ranged from colorful feathers and glass ornaments to shiny piles of rocks peppered with broken jewelry.

They were also all coated with a thin layer of dust. A bird stand and feeder stood in the corner, forgotten.

Legend was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, his head leaned back against the untouched blanket. “I don’t know why I came in here. I knew it would only—” he broke off with a slight waver in his voice. “Old habit, I guess.”

Hyrule waited for him to explain, cautious of breaking this fragile, unspoken trust. Legend didn’t elaborate.

“Sorry for snapping at you earlier.” Legend lifted his head. “When you asked about my hand. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Oh, it’s…ok. I wasn’t…mad.” Hyrule scuffed a boot on the purple rug, unsure of what to do with his hands. He got sick of awkwardly hovering and decided to join Legend on the floor. He knotted his fingers together, not knowing what to say.

His reason for being down here in the first place came back to him. “I came down here cause we’ve been talking about what to do now, since, y’know. All the Yiga spies are gone.”

Legend was quiet, picking at some dirt under his nails. “You don’t have to worry about the whole guard thing and Wild being my stablehand and stuff, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re free to go whenever you want.”

“Actually,” Hyrule tightened his grip on his hands. “We were thinking about staying? For a while?”

At that, Legend looked up again. Here on the floor, lit in the yellow ghost of Legend’s lantern across the hall with cold moonlight glinting on his eyes, the hope within them was laid bare and painfully raw. Seeing it, Hyrule felt all the assumptions he’d made about Legend’s indifference crumble.

“Oh,” Legend asked, still trying to feign nonchalance, “why’s that?”

“Well, first,” Hyrule counted on his fingers, “I highly doubt that’s the last we’ll see of the Yiga or hear from Ganon. The others agree with me. After his eyes on you just disappear like that, more will probably come.”

“I figured.” Legend admitted. “It would be really nice to still have someone around that can tell the difference. Saves me the trouble of always sleeping with one eye open.”

He laughed it off, but Hyrule hurt to think of his new friend having to go on like that for who knows how long, never quite knowing who he could trust even within the walls of his own home. Hyrule’s decision to stick around for a while only strengthened.

“For another, bigger thing,” Hyrule counted, “before we met you, we didn’t uh… _exactly_ heroically kick butt against the Yiga camp we came across. Whatever we end up doing next,” whether that constituted searching out the other heroes or just marching directly to Ganon’s dungeons and making a beeline for Twilight’s mom, they hadn’t decided yet, “we need time to prepare. By staying here, we can train and build up resources. It also wouldn’t hurt if you would happen to find out that one of those questions about a rebellion or something actually leads somewhere?” Hyrule shrugged the suggestion and ended it sort of as a question.

Legend huffed wryly. “I’ll let you know.”

Silence stretched between them. Hyrule badly wanted to ask about the unspoken topic still hanging in the air; about Legend being a chosen hero, like them.

“I’m glad you three are gonna stick around,” Legend said, surprising Hyrule with his frank honesty. His head listed to one side, his cheek smushing against the foot of the bed behind him. “It’s too quiet in this house.”

There weren’t a lot of things that an empty bedroom could mean. All of them weighed heavy in Hyrule’s chest.

He couldn’t hold the questions in any longer. “The things you said earlier…” Hyrule started. “About the nine chosen heroes and princesses being just a fairytale…” He scratched the back of his neck, nervous. “You have to know they’re real, right? You are one. Weren’t you…born with the name Link?”

“I was.” Legend’s voice was brittle and sharp. “That is my real name, I guess. When we had to stop using it, I started going by ‘Legend’ because that was already the nickname my Uncle called me sometimes. So, from then on that’s what he and—that’s what everyone called me.”

Hyrule caught the stumble, but he didn’t comment on it.

“But it wasn’t enough.” Unconsciously, so much so that Hyrule didn’t know if he realized he was doing it, Legend tugged the thin chain he wore on his neck—the one Hyrule had seen attached to the wooden ring. He pulled it around and around. “From what _I’ve_ seen, all I believe about that name is that it’s cursed. It doesn’t bring anything but bad luck to me and everyone around me.”

He pulled the chain around and around, glaring the force of his bitterness into the floor.

His words were intimately, achingly familiar. Hyrule felt them like the echo of an old phantom injury.

“That’s what I used to think, too.” Hyrule confessed. “I never had anyone to tell me, really, but I learned it firsthand after a while. Telling people the name I was born with only ever brought me trouble.” He gave voice to the secret doubt that had taken root in him long ago. “Maybe the name _is_ cursed. I don’t know. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been alone and why I never had a home. I don’t know what else there could be that—why everyone else had them and I never—”

He stopped, embarrassed when his eyes welled up with tears and a knot lodged in his throat. He’d never tried to share these thoughts with anyone before. He rarely allowed himself to acknowledge them; he’d learned that letting his mind spend too long wondering what he’d done or what he was that kept people away from him only dragged him down, drowning. The sorrow of it was deep and old, but as it seeped out into words Hyrule found it leaving freedom in its wake alongside the pain.

“When I think about it now, though…I don’t know.” He scrubbed at his eyes, taking a breath around the lump in his throat and letting his lungs fill, letting the rot and cobwebs blow out from them slowly to leave them clear and stubbornly living. “I think I might be starting to change my mind.”

Legend said nothing, waiting for him to explain.

“I mean, whether or not we actually have some great destiny to save everyone or defeat Ganon or anything like that…already it’s bringing us together.” Hyrule felt the bandages that were wrapped around his injured side with meticulous care. “For the first time in my life, I’m not alone anymore. I have Twilight and Wild, now, and we found you. And there’s still five more of us out there somewhere.”

Putting it into words, Hyrule finally found the right ones to describe the change taking root within him. “It makes me wonder what else might happen that’s never happened before.”

Legend twirled the chain on a finger, gentle and melancholy. “I wish it was that easy for me. Your life—it sounds terrible. You’re a good person, and so many things have happened to you that you don’t deserve. I don’t know how you can still find the strength to have so much hope.”

The heaviness lying between them buzzed under Hyrule’s skin, thick and confining. Always the temptation lingered with him to lay down and give up, strong enough some days to seem impossible to overcome.

But he was a survivalist, and it was never in his nature to give up without a fight.

Hyrule stood. He felt restless and unable to sit still any longer. “Practice,” he answered Legend simply. “Things are always changing, whether for better or for worse. Maybe this time I want to follow where this path goes and see if it ends up for the better. Who knows; maybe there is some kind of purpose to all this.”

He held out an arm to help Legend up. Hyrule knew firsthand there was no good in sitting and waiting around for your bones to rot.

Legend took it and let Hyrule heave him to his feet. “I don’t know about that,” he said, doubtful. “But as for following this thing out of pure curiosity…”

He dusted himself off and left the room with Hyrule, closing the door behind him.

“Who knows,” he said, thoughtful and resigned and tentatively resolved. “Maybe I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for almost falling off a bridge, attempted stabbing, and kind of a heavy discussion, but with a generally hopeful ending
> 
> I wrote this chapter during a really low point of a pretty bad summer, when I could use the reminder not to get stuck; thankfully, things have gotten better since then. Keep pushing on, friends. Things are always changing in ways you don’t know to expect.
> 
> Next chapter is the last in Part 1!
> 
> Up next: Sky and Sun find what they're looking for.


	12. The End of the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sky and Sun find what they're looking for.

All in all, things were going fairly smoothly for Sun and Sky up until the sniper fire.

They’d followed Artemis’s instructions to the letter. Just as she’d said, their road carved a narrow swath through the rocky ground beneath the grass, leading them over a river and under craggy arches. At one point, it had curved in a C-shape that lay open at one end and stopped them to stare, little time though they had. The great, glittering sea lay beyond, breathtaking and magnetic in how its sky-tones shifted, weaving the smell of salt between them.

Once Sun and Sky turned inland, they found the stable by the lake. Their trust for strangers was stretched thin after their encounter at the inn, so the two of them contented themselves with horses for company, foraging apples and mushrooms on the lake’s opposite shore.

After the stable, Sky found himself with a new wonder of the Surface to wrap his mind around—he and Sun encountered a forest. There seemed enough trees there to fill up the world. He marveled at how the leaves bunched overhead and blotted out the sky, weaving together like the roof of some enormous tent.

His wonder was soured some when they found out how good of a hiding place the trees made for monsters. Feral, piglike creatures with huge ears and lolling tongues leapt out of hiding to attack them; thankfully, they didn’t seem to have any skill or strategy, so Sky was able to fend them off with help from Sun. Afterward, both of them looked on the forest with newfound wariness.

By the time the light of the sun slanted, gold, through the trees, the landscape had shifted. The grayish, rough trees with twisting branches that matched those of Skyloft traded places with a foreign kind that was thick with scaly, pointed bark and broad leaves. The rocky ridges took on a pink tinge and the air grew so heavy with moisture that Sky could feel it on his hands, the drone of insects and frogs loud in his ears.

It was at the tangle of platforms high overhead, their signal to turn off the road and cut a path northward, that their new set of troubles began.

“Sky, look out!” Sun dragged him aside just in time to miss an arrow thudding at his feet. They ran for cover with a shot grazing heartstoppingly close to Sky’s eye, another going wide behind their backs.

“You made me miss!” An angry voice accused somewhere above them. They huddled together behind a green boulder slick with humidity. The water seeped into the back of Sky’s tunic as he pressed against it, sandwiched next to Sun under a drooping fern.

Overhead, two people were arguing too far away for Sky to make out what they were saying. He didn’t know what to do. They couldn’t see the shooter, and the minute they emerged they’d be sitting ducks for more arrows. Unless they could find a better option, all they could do was wait and see if the coast cleared.

“I hear someone coming down,” Sun warned. Sure enough, after a moment, Sky was able to make out leaves rustling and ropes creaking. He drew his sword as silently as he could.

“Don’t worry, it’s safe to come out!” A child’s voice called. “The guy shooting arrows is gone.”

Sky felt his brows draw together, seeing his confusion mirrored in Sun. What was a child doing out here?

Keeping his sword lowered but still drawn at the ready, Sky inched up until he was standing. No arrows rained down from the treetops. Seeing the encouraging lack of ranged sniper fire, Sun joined him.

“Hi, there, sweetheart,” Sun said. “Do you live here?”

Sky hoped so. With any luck, the kid’s parents were somewhere nearby. A little girl in green who came up to about his waist height was tucking her bobbed hair neatly behind one ear, looking apologetic.

“Oh, um, yes, they are,” she answered. “We…don’t usually see a lot of travelers, here. Where are you going?” She swung her arms back and forth with a shy enthusiasm that was deeply endearing.

“Oh, we’re,” Sky exchanged a look with Sun. “Going to meet some friends of ours.”

“Really?” The little girl brightened and hopped closer, skipping through the underbrush. “Are they down this road somewhere? If you keep going that way,” she pointed, “I think it goes to Ruelel—Luleran—” she sounded out, “Lu-re-lin village. You better hurry if you want to get there before nighttime!”

They really _did_ need to get moving. She was right; it would be dark soon. “Thanks for the tip!” Sky said. He decided not to mention that it wasn’t really where they were going—the less people knew about the rebels’ base, the better, even if it was just a little kid. “And you’d better hurry, yourself. I bet your parents are worried about you.”

“I’ll be okay,” she reassured them. “I know this forest really well. In fact, I should probably show you the way! I don’t want you to get lost.”

“Oh—uh—no, that’s okay,” Sun cut in. “We can manage.”

The girl didn’t leave. Though her arms still swung a little, back and forth, her eyes fixed both of them with a piercing stare. The sweet smile on her face didn’t reach her eyes.

“You’re not going to Lurelin, are you?” It wasn’t a question.

“That’s weird.” The voice from earlier, up on the platforms above, called down faintly. “It’s weird how that doesn’t _sound_ like an apology, and yet I was right all along!”

“Look,” the girl sighed, ignoring him, “I want to assume the best, so I’ll give you one chance to just be honest with me. Because my buddy up there,” she jerked a thumb at the treetops, “he’s pretty sure you guys came here on orders from the Emperor. Now, I don’t want to believe him, so…”

She shrugged, resting a hand on her belt in a way that managed to be distinctly threatening, despite coming from such a small child. “I figured I’d let you give me your own explanation.”

“No!” Sun and Sky spoke over each other, panicked. “No, that’s not it at all!” Sun insisted.

A whole series of perceptions shifted in Sky’s mind all at once. The little girl out here seemingly in the middle of the forest, the sniper—or _scout,_ maybe—right near the place they were told to start searching for the rebels’ base. These _were_ the rebels. They’d found them.

A perfect circle of arrows planted themselves around Sun and Sky. Warning shots. Sky drew his sword.

“No, Sky, wait—” Sun put a hand over his, stopping his sword halfway out of the scabbard. She held the other hand out to the little girl in a placating gesture. “We’re friends,” she promised, her voice tight. “We were told to come here by a friend of yours, Sheik—Artemis,” she tacked onto the end.

At the name ‘Artemis,’ the girl lowered her guard. “Well,” she thought out loud, looking them over. “Either you’re telling the truth or we’re in deep trouble, because she doesn’t throw that name around easily.”

She craned her neck back and cupped a hand around her mouth. “Hey feather-brain, get down here. I think we should take them to the Head. They seem like they’re for real.”

Sky was impressed and intimidated when she didn’t even _flinch_ at the arrow that landed close enough to her foot for the fletching to whip at her knee.

What appeared to be a slim bird person who had blue-gray feathers and an extremely affronted air followed after with prim, delicate grace. “I will not be spoken to in this manner,” he informed her. He plucked the arrow from the ground to return to his quiver. “And _I_ have elected to follow as my own personal decision, for security. _Not_ as any consequence of your judgement. I’m coming because _I_ don’t trust them.”

The girl gagged. “I’m sorry about him,” she apologized to Sun and Sky. “Please, follow me.”

As she turned and led them deeper into the forest, Sun stifled a giggle. She leaned in by Sky’s ear, unknowingly giving him a wash of goosebumps at her closeness. “He reminds me of Groose,” she whispered.

Sky was surprised into a snort that he tried to cover with a cough. The rude bird man sent him a withering glare.

“Don’t be mean; that’s an insult to this guy,” Sky whispered back. “I don’t think Groose can spell ‘consequence,’ forget use it in a sentence.” Sun’s shoulders shook.

They wove a path through the thick underbrush with confidence—the girl wasn’t kidding about knowing the area. She and the bird expertly navigated cliffsides and deceptive pits, guiding Sun and Sky around a sheer drop into raging rapids that filled the air with billowing steam.

After a while, blocky ruins green with moss began to rise around them. They lay scattered between the trees like pieces of a long, angular dragon turned to stone. A path worn in the ground was beginning to emerge.

“I’m Saria,” the girl explained, squeezing between a square dragon’s mouth and tail. “And my grumpy associate here is Revali—I figured I should tell you, since he definitely won’t.”

“Maybe I didn’t want them to know!” The bird—Revali—threw his wing-hands up in the air. Saria stuck out her tongue in response.

Sky was getting more confused by the minute. For the most part, Saria seemed very much like a little kid; but the longer he was around her, the more something about her was just _different_ from the kids he knew on Skyloft. He didn’t think it was a Surface thing. Though she was brimming with sweet, childlike energy, she carried herself at times with a maturity that didn’t match.

He was distracted completely from wondering about it when the trees cleared and they crossed out into the open.

All at once, they found themselves in a huge, stone bowl. Layers of pillars held up walkways carved into the rock from some ancient civilization, all shielded from the world around them by the cover of the trees. At its base, two boardwalks crossed a lake that glimmered like a jewel, dotted with lily pads and cattails. At the boardwalks’ end, the enormous maw of a stone dragon sat guard.

Now, though abandoned long ago, the ruins housed a teeming city of canvas and new life.

Tents of all makes and colors lined the stone alcoves and emitted more different kinds of people than Sky could have possibly imagined. Hylians were there, ranging from some who looked like him and Sun to some who looked almost completely different; but alongside them were people who seemed to be more akin to birds, or fish, or even walking boulders.

A portly one of the rock people with hair that flared out around his head in a wispy starburst paused from hammering a stake into the dirt to call out a greeting to Saria, who returned it, calling him ‘Darunia.’ Along the way, she greeted a pair of fish-people diving to the bottom of the lake at the stone bowl’s center— ‘Ruto’ and ‘Mipha’—a _very_ tall woman who was directing people carrying weapons (‘Urbosa’), and a Hylian girl with a dark, wide-brimmed hat who made a beeline for them upon sight.

She met them at the junction of the two boardwalks. “Irene,” the girl pronounced herself, unprompted. “I’m the greatest witch of my generation.” By the tone of her voice, this was important information for them to know right away.

“And I’m the greatest sonneteer of our era,” Revali shot back, tapping his foot. She was standing directly in his way. “As long as we’re making up titles and wasting time, here.”

Irene gave him a saccharine smile. “You can laugh all you want ‘till I figure out how to curse your bloodline with an incurable pestilence of mildly annoying itchiness. Your day of reckoning is coming.”

Revali swatted at her with a wing and missed when she hopped out of the way, twirling a broomstick behind her.

“I’m the Champion of the Rito,” he told Sun and Sky waspishly. “I command respect. I’m a legend among my people. These children just don’t know how to appreciate talent.”

Sun and Sky nodded and feigned as much sympathy as they could put on. “Oh, yes, of course,” Sun agreed. In Sky’s opinion, she was very convincing.

“O, great Champion of the Rito,” Saria gave a flourishing bow. “Go and find someone else to take thy watch, if it would please thee. For, lo, thy charges are delivered, but thy post remains abandoned in thy regrettable absence.”

In a move that unexpectedly mirrored Sky’s loftwing so much he had to fight not to laugh, Revali made an irked trilling noise and ruffled his feathers. “I’ll do it myself,” he snapped. “I could use a break from all this _disrespect.”_

With that, a powerful gust of wind began to buffet them from all directions. “Wuh oh!” Saria grabbed onto Sun and Sky to steady them. “Heads up!”

Revali coiled and launched himself high into the air, sending wings of water rippling out across the lake. The fish ladies paused in their work to complain, but he was already long gone, disappearing into the treeline.

“So,” Saria began, drawing their attention back to her. She creaked on down the boardwalk toward the dragon’s head and they trailed after her. “’Artemis,’ huh? How did you manage to get that out of her?”

The shadow of the dragon’s mouth was cool when they passed under it. The water around them grew shallow and filled with grass and reeds the farther they travelled in, lapping against the stone with each wave.

Inside, they were greeted first by a statue of the Goddess. Aside from a few differences here and there, she was strikingly close to the one that kept watch over Skyloft. Sky felt a wave of homesickness tug at him, gentle as the water below his feet.

“Artemis rescued us,” Sky explained. “We were captured by a man who called himself…a hunter? For the Emperor, I think. But we didn’t want to trust her at first, so she told us who she was.”

Below her serene face and folded hands, a platform was erected over the water at Hylia’s feet. It was spanned with tables that fluttered with books and papers, all guarded from the elements by canvas walls and a ceiling. Inside, lanterns flickered and threw harried shadows across a huge map hoisted up, covered in pins.

“A hunter?” Saria frowned.

A woman was standing over the papers, poring over them deep in thought. At Saria’s voice, she looked up. She had an angular, weary face cut with high cheekbones that were probably called delicate in her younger years. Framed by flyaway blonde hair escaping from a braid wrapped around her head and paired with the rough-cut, layered tunic and breeches she wore with leather armor and a weather-beaten cloak, the word no longer fit.

If anything, she could have been hewn from the ancient stone as easily as the ruins around her—and her form carried just as much of the wear at its edges, just as much of a sense of history and quiet grief.

Even if he hadn’t seen her here in this field office, surrounded by figures and strategies, Sky could have picked her out as a leader.

“Start over,” the woman said. She abandoned her study to meet them at the end of the boardwalk.

Taking it in turns, Sun and Sky related their story. They told of their home in the sky, of the dust storm that took Sun and the sword Sky had been given; they told how he’d followed after her, finding her on the Surface. The two of them explained how Ghirahim had tried to capture them both for the Emperor, but that they’d been rescued by a mysterious warrior who turned out to be Artemis.

“She convinced us to trust her,” Sun said, “because she said she was like me. Like both of us,” she gestured to Sky. “Some of those that have been prophesied to defeat the darkness that’s taken hold of this world.”

“Oh,” said Saria quietly. “You’re one of the new heroes?”

“Yes,” Sky answered. He tried to feel like it.

Again, she turned her perceptive eyes on him, this time searching for something he couldn’t guess. Whatever she found softened her. “I should have known. I can see it.” Something in the way she said it was sad and bittersweet.

“I’m glad you’ve found your way here,” the woman told them. “With any luck, this means that, soon, we’ll be able to get to the others. But I want to make sure you know you have a choice. Always. Say the word, and we’ll do everything we can to try to get you back to your home and let you live in peace.”

Sky hated that the first thought he had was worry for Sun. He knew he couldn’t ask that of her, to stay home when people needed help. He’d known her their whole lives, after all, and could remember the times she’d cup tadpoles from puddles in her tiny hands to return to a pond. He’d seen it in how she put her foot down against Groose, time and time again, refusing to tolerate his behavior. She wasn’t a person that stood aside from anything.

In his heart of hearts, though, Sky couldn’t help that he wanted nothing more than the assurance she’d be safe, and letting it go hurt him.

“Sky,” Sun said, quiet, just to him. “I can’t. You can’t either; I know you.”

If Sky was honest with himself, he was terrified. Out here in the world outside their secluded island, anything could spell the end of him—unspeakably worse, the end of _Sun._

But the people down here lived with that danger every day, and they didn’t deserve it any more than the people of Skyloft. Sky and Sun weren’t the only ones who had Ghirahim to fear. There were others out there like them, somewhere, living in a world where they’d never be truly safe.

If Sun could find the courage to think she could do something about it, maybe Sky could too.

He took her hand. “We want to stay.” Her eyes shone and he thought he might love her, for how she couldn’t let tadpoles die and she couldn’t let Sky get picked on and she couldn’t let strangers in this foreign world suffer.

When he turned back to the woman, she was looking between them and holding herself steadier, straighter. She seemed to find new determination.

“I don’t think we’ll have any trouble at all finding a place for you here,” she told them. “Sky, you said, and Sun?”

They nodded.

She held out a hand to shake each of theirs in turn. “I was born with the name Zelda, like you,” she said to Sun. “But since then I’ve come to be known as Lullaby.”

She gave them a genuine smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. “It’s truly an honor to meet you.”

“Glad to have ‘ya on board,” Saria joined in. “Sun and Sky, welcome to Lullaby’s Army.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Lullaby is the Zelda of Ocarina of Time)
> 
> (slides canon character age differences under the rug) dont worry about it <3  
> also having Saria and Revali as good cop and bad cop is not a dynamic I intended to create, but I think I did and boy am I glad to be here now
> 
> Shoutout to AGreekDemigod#3381, raaaaaaamen#5836, and Breezybees#4025 on Discord for answering my question way back when about your favorite npcs! I made sure to slide in cameos :) (also if you read this Ramen hang in there, I remember you said Paya, she'll make an appearance eventually)
> 
> Next up: the beginning of Part 2! There's going to be a little bit of a time skip before the next chapter starts (and probably an irl pause while I get my act together), so be prepared!


	13. Fight or Flight pt. 1/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyrule, Twilight, and Wild get an important mission. Warriors gets directions. Things generally don't go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM BACK FROM SCHOOL BABEEEEEEEEY YEEEEEEEAAAAAAH BOOOOOOOOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
> 
> I've been saving up this four-parter, so I'm gonna be posting one after the other! Expect parts 2-4 of Fight or Flight in the next few days!!
> 
> Warnings and notes at the end, as always :)

**PART TWO**

* * *

As time marched on the leaves fell and crumbled, leaving a world white and slumbering in their wake. Winter swept over the hills of Hyrule and froze its rivers and roads. The chill of the air bore no concern for the affairs of princesses or emperors; it did its work as it had for eons.

And so, the seasons turned.

Months went by, long and unchanging. Winter was a time of waiting. Animals lay in their burrows, plants dormant in their deep roots, and the people sequestered in their villages; all of them saying, _something is coming, something in the sun-touched tomorrow._

Until winter, at last, began to die by spurts. Spring crept in with tiny, green-pointed footsteps; the first hint of grass broke through the snow. The first true thaw threw off winter’s dead mantle all at once, casting it aside. Beneath, tiny shoots and flower’s buds were waiting for their new beginning.

It was this time, when fresh leaves began to make a thousand fluttering dots in the treetops, that brought the merchants’ caravans along with the birdsong and the celandines. The people of Hyrule were on the move again.

* * *

“Listen up, lads,” Legend proclaimed with gusto. “I have an important mission for you.”

He arrived in their room without knocking and stood in the middle, arms thrown wide. Hyrule paused from digging through his nest of blankets—now grown to multiple beds’ worth—and trying to find his missing boot. Wild, on the other hand, kept all of his attention devoted to working out a knot from his hair.

Twilight was still dead to the world and sprawled out, snoring, on the bed.

“I’m busy,” said Wild immediately. Legend ignored him.

“Pay close attention,” Legend went on in the dramatic cant of a performer. “At the market today, somewhere among the merchants, there will be a woman with bright blue and green twists in her hair. You wouldn’t be able to miss her—she sets up a stall that looks like it got dropped on the floor of a paint shop, but artistically. Like, dropped there on purpose.”

“Twilight’s gonna drop you on purpose if you wake him up this early.” Wild used a hand still tangled in his hair to point at the darkness out the window.

“You must find this woman and get some of her pink hair dye,” Legend spoke over him. “I’m running out, and she’s the best there is.”

Wild wrinkled his nose. “Your hair streak still looks plenty pink to me.”

“Yeah, _for now,”_ Legend leaned against a bedpost as if overwhelmed by weariness at Wild’s heckling. “But she only comes by once a year, so I need to make sure I have enough until next time.”

Hyrule rolled his eyes at the dramatics. “We can keep an eye out. But remember that there’s still only, like, three of us trying to keep order at this thing when you usually have a lot more guards, so we’re probably gonna have our hands full. And _I’ll_ be busy watching for Yiga—if there’s any good chance for them to slip in, this is it.”

Legend tossed him a bag of rupees. “Yeah, yeah, fine, but if you’re looking anyway, look for that stall.”

The bag was surprisingly heavy and Hyrule took a peek inside. His eyebrows climbed to his hairline. “Is all this just for the dye?!”

“Like I said,” Legend repeated from down the hall, “she’s the best!”

\---

The market made Hyrule’s head hurt, but not entirely in a bad way.

The streets of Legend’s village that he’d started to grow familiar with were transformed for the special occasion. Pennants in all colors flapped between the buildings, crisscrossing over the bustling roads, and flowers spilled out from baskets like waterfalls. The fresh smell of living plants perfumed the air and mixed with sweet pastries, sharp spices, bitter dyes, and the heavy scent of cooking meats.

It was hard not to get washed away by the rush of smell and noise. People who’d come from miles around were there, swirling between the merchants’ stalls, packed shoulder to shoulder in some places. Hyrule was a little overwhelmed. For the first time in a while, he found himself gravitating toward Twilight once again.

Twilight glanced down and gave a good-natured laugh. He ruffled both Hyrule and Wild’s hair—Wild, Hyrule realized, was edging in on Twilight’s other side. “Pretty loud, ain’it? Look, though, Wild, see? That one’s selling clothes and hats and stuff. Go on ‘n take a look.”

Wild did look intrigued, now that he saw the stall Twilight meant. There was a particularly bright, loose-sleeved shirt with sparkling thread at its borders that got his attention.

“Hyrule, you seen anything yet that looks interesting?” Twilight kept one eye on Wild, snagging the back of his tunic to keep him from scaling the display to grab the shirt.

Hyrule shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe? I thought we were supposed to be…guarding or something.”

“I mean _yeah_ , we _are,”_ Twilight wheedled. “But it can’t hurt to look around some, first. See, I’m still guarding!”

He stomped a foot on the ground at attention and made a mock serious face, scanning the crowd for ne’er-do-wells. “All’s well, Sir Hyrule. Nothing to report.”

Despite himself, Hyrule snorted. “At ease, Sir Twilight. The coast is…clear and accounted for.”

Wild paused from his vicious haggling for the shirt. _“’The coast is clear and accounted for?’”_ He repeated.

Hyrule felt his face flush in embarrassment. “Shut up! I don’t know what you’re supposed to say.”

“Cover my six, boys,” Wild crowed, choking on laughter, “we’re coming in ready to lock and roll!”

“All silent on the horizon. Hostiles have gone AWOL,” Twilight announced, nodding gravely.

“I hate you. You’re both terrible.” Hyrule disappeared into the hood of his new cloak. It was a perfect, greenish gray color that would blend with the spring landscape, just the right weight for the weather and, more importantly, with a deep hood he could pull down until it covered his eyes.

Wild returned to his negotiations by smacking a handful of rupees on the merchant’s table. “Take it or leave it.”

To Wild’s devastation, the merchant chose to leave it.

\---

“The shirt’s not _that_ great, really.” Twilight tried. It was nearing noon by that point, a few stopped thefts and a broken-up fight or two later, after they’d moved outside the crowd to watch from afar. “I mean, it’s not worth what that guy was asking. You could do better.”

Wild answered only by kicking a loose shard of cobblestone so it skittered along the ground in front of him.

Personally, Hyrule was much happier out here than in the middle of the market. They’d crossed into the dirt-packed area behind the village’s houses where people usually hung up their laundry or stacked spare firewood. Today, it was cleared out and used to house the merchants’ wagons. Workers went about their business unloading goods and caring for their horses, leaving Hyrule, Twilight, and Wild free to keep an eye on things from a distance.

While Twilight kept making halfhearted attempts to console Wild, Hyrule couldn’t help but notice that one of the guys unloading seemed to be having some trouble. He had a crate halfway off the back of a wagon with a corner cradled in his arms, but he fumbled it until it was teetering dangerously.

Hyrule elbowed Twilight. “Hey,” he called to the guy with the crate, “do you need a hand?” He jogged up the hill toward him, growing more worried when the guy almost lost his hold.

“Oh,” the guy said, trying for a cheery tone that came out strangled. “Thank you, kind sir! Don’t—worry yourself about me. I’m stronger than I look.”

His statement was immediately contradicted when he tried to take on a bit more weight and choked out a cry of pain, seizing up. Wild, Twilight, and Hyrule all rushed to take the crate from his hands. They settled it on the ground as he coughed heavily.

“Well,” the traveler said, subdued, “that was embarrassing.” His breath was a little ragged as he leaned against the wagon, kneading his chest.

“Sorry if it’s none of my business,” said Twilight. “But you ain’t lookin’ so good. Do we need to call somebody?”

The guy hacked a laugh that was more than half a cough. “No, I’ll be alright. I only took the job moving stuff to get the free wagon ride—I’m sure after this I can work something better out.” He gave a jaunty thumbs up. “Although, if you’d like to purchase some of these world-class seeds I’ve been riding with for a very modest sum, I’d be glad to take some rupees off your hands!”

Twilight didn’t seem convinced by the guy’s claim to be okay, but looking at him, Hyrule didn’t think he was suffering from any injuries that looked too recent. His purple hood and tunic had seen wear but didn’t have any tears or stains that would come from a wound. The same went for the blue, striped scarf he had tugged up to his chin—the ghost of a few sharp scars were just visible raking up his cheek, ending with a nick in his ear, but they were faded from time.

Something about him seemed weirdly familiar, but Hyrule couldn’t quite put his finger on what. The guy’s face was mostly covered by his hood, but it might have been something about the shape of his jaw, or the way the tips of his dark hair hung just below it. 

“Say,” the guy in purple said, shrewd. “That armor you have—you three look like you might work here.”

“We’re not making any purchases for Legend,” Twilight intoned, conveniently leaving out that it was actually one of their tasks today. “And I’m pretty confident he doesn’t want seeds anyway.”

“Oh, my good sir, you wound me!” He put a hand to his hooded forehead. “Can’t an innocent man ask after gossip in peace without these accusations?”

“Gossip?” Wild popped into the conversation, suddenly interested.

“But of course!” The man leaned in, glad to have an attentive audience. “I simply wanted all the juicy details on the young Lord’s marriage!”

_What?_

“On…what?” Twilight spoke Hyrule’s thoughts aloud. Wild looked deeply entrenched in mental arithmetic without any progress.

“It’s spring. He’s been married for some time by now, has he not?” The enthusiasm was dropping quickly from the traveler’s voice.

“Um…” Twilight shared a look with Wild, then Hyrule. “I don’t know where you get your information, but. We’ve been here for…a good while now. And…unless I’m mistaken, he is not, in fact, married.”

The pieces clunked together heavily in Hyrule’s mind all at once. The ring. The beautiful one he’d seen on the chain around Legend’s neck, carved with shells and a seagull. Legend’s true name, he had said, brought bad luck to everyone around him. He’d tugged at the chain all the while.

Hyrule’s stomach gave a dark, nauseous swoop.

“Heh.” The man in purple laughed in a way that held no humor at all. “Guess it’s been…a long time since I’ve been here.” His hood turned to gaze up at the manor house. “Too long,” he said, soft and sad.

Before Hyrule could ask him what he meant, the man pushed on. “Hey, you guys are guards, right? I have a message to pass on to L—to the young Lord.” He grew urgent. “You need to tell him that Lorule has—"

“Hey! There you guys are, I’ve been looking for you! What are you doing over here?”

Since Hyrule was the last to turn, he was the only one who saw how the man in purple went rigid at Legend’s voice yelling somewhere behind them. Hyrule glanced, just for a moment to see that Legend was rounding the corner of the nearest house, walking their way.

When Hyrule looked back, the man in purple was gone.

“Where’d he go?” Hyrule searched the wagon and peered around the far side. The strange traveler was nowhere to be found. “Hey,” he called, “Legend is here, what did you need to tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Legend asked.

Twilight shrugged. “He didn’t finish.” As Legend, too, peered around for this mysterious missing person, Twilight’s brows drew together and he said, “Speaking of which, by the way, he kept trying to ask us about—”

Hyrule stamped on his foot, hard. Twilight broke off with a yelp.

“Seeds,” Hyrule finished. “It was really annoying, he kept trying to get us to buy some. We had to tell him we’re not in charge of making purchases like that for you.”

“Except for…” Legend prompted.

“Oops.” Twilight winced, effectively distracted from his question. “We still haven’t found that hair dye. Sorry.”

Legend made a disappointed noise “Gimme the rupees.” He snatched them from Hyrule’s hand. “I’ll do it myself, come here, I’ll show you where she is.”

Behind Twilight and Legend’s backs, Wild shot Hyrule questioning eyes. “Later,” Hyrule whispered. They rounded the whitewashed corner of the house and wove around a stall selling rugs, ducking under the merchandise hanging on display. The encounter still weighed on Hyrule’s mind, keeping him from paying much attention to Legend’s one-sided conversation with Twilight about the virtues of various kinds of hair dye. What could that guy have meant by—

Something was wrong.

Hyrule stopped in his tracks.

The people on the road milled around, chatting and content. Merchants hawked their wares, calling out _‘bread, seeds, seasonings from faraway lands!’_ or _‘tools, fine tools for sale!’_ pitching their voices over the drone. His eyes showed him that a happy couple was holding hands nearby, a group of old men were arguing good-naturedly, a little girl was begging her parents for a toy horse.

But the footsteps and bright chatter went silent in his ears as they filled with a roar of screaming chaos.

Hyrule stood where he was, petrified, trying to understand. Nothing he saw changed, but the sound of the mayhem was so real that he flinched at a splintering crash behind him. He scanned the streets frantically, trying to call up his magical sight and find the danger. The little girl was hugging her new toy horse in delight, but Hyrule could hear her sobbing.

A hand shook his arm and he swiped out with his dagger on instinct.

Legend backed off, thankfully unharmed. His lips moved to form Hyrule’s name and something else. He pointed at his eyes.

“They’re screaming,” Hyrule pleaded with him to understand, unable to even hear his own voice. “I can hear them. Everyone is screaming. Something is coming, we need to get everyone out of here—"

Legend paled. He shouted, gesturing to get Twilight and Wild’s attention.

_Blood. Threads popping as a rabbit banner was shorn to pieces, a gash splitting the pink emblem at its center, steel ringing on steel. White eyes pinned him down, a man made of wood but unnaturally fast, a rabbit, running, leaving footprints in red—_

“Legend!” Hyrule latched onto his arm. “The thing that’s coming, it’s not coming for everyone else, it’s here—”

Someone was looking at him. Hyrule’s head snapped up and he made eye contact with a man in the crowd. His head was hooded, but in the shadow of the cloak Hyrule saw blood red stripes and two glowing white eyes.

Sound rushed back in around him.

“Legend, he came here to kill you! You have to run!”

“Who, Hyrule?” Twilight grabbed his sword hilt. “Who is it?” Wild nocked his bow.

“That man,” Hyrule turned to point, “right—”

The man was gone.

“I _saw_ him,” Hyrule insisted. “He was just there.” Wild and Twilight pressed in close at Legend’s sides, scanning the shifting crush of bodies.

Tense seconds passed. Adrenaline burned through Hyrule, building with no outlet when no sign of the mysterious man made itself known.

“We should go,” muttered Twilight. “If there’s someone here for you, we should draw him away from the village. And get you somewhere more protected, while we’re at it.”

Legend groaned, though he shifted and peered around with nervous energy. “Can I at least get my hair dye? Because, honestly, if it comes down to taking my chances with—"

 _“Legend.”_ Twilight and Hyrule said in unison. Wild elbowed him in the direction of the house.

“Fine, fine.” Reluctantly, he gave in. 

They reached the safety of the manor house’s stone walls and iron gate unhindered, Hyrule jumping at shadows all the while.

Still, the man was nowhere to be seen.

Even as the streets continued to bustle peacefully behind them, Hyrule’s creeping dread refused to settle, the ghost of distant screams still echoing in his ears.

* * *

Hylia River was high and wide this time of year, swollen with runoff from the melting snow. It churned over rapids that flecked freezing mist against Warriors’s skin and made him wish dearly for some kind of cloak. He tried to huddle into his scarf as best he could.

Even without the way the ferryboat dipped and pitched with the current—which was already enough to make him sick to his stomach—Warriors was glad to see a dock emerge between the pines on the shore.

“Hold!” The ferryman warned. Warriors gripped at the boat’s slippery wooden railing with white knuckles and vowed to avoid boats from this day forward. The ferryman plunged an oar into the water and tipped the raft far enough to send a thin, icy wave washing across the deck. Bit by bit, he coaxed it into turning for the dock.

By the time his boots touched grounded, unmoving wood, Warriors had to fight the urge to kiss beautiful solid land. He’d never used a form of travel that made him fear so much for his life and he was never going to again, if he could help it. He’d rather have to walk for a week than spend another day like that.

He hadn’t had a choice, today. His time was running short.

From the ferryman’s directions, he left the dock and followed the treeline north. High above, the Gerudo Highlands brushed against the clouds and made a solid line on the horizon. He was thankful to find the top of a rocky hill that opened up to a flat, sweeping expanse dotted with evergreens and gave him a good vantage point. From there, he found a small line of buildings in the mountains’ shadow that he would have otherwise missed.

It was the kind of place you’d only find from stopping here on the river, too small even to have an official name. Calling it a town might be generous, seeing as it consisted of a general store, a post office that doubled as a sheriff’s department, a couple of houses, and a squarish wooden box with a porch ambitiously labelled 'Town Hall.'

The only part Warriors really payed attention to, though, was the post office. If anywhere, that’s where he’d find the answers he needed.

If the sleepy old man behind the counter noticed or cared about the Imperial insignia Warriors wore on his chest, he certainly didn’t show it. He snorted awake at the sound of the front door’s bell to squint at Warriors behind an impressive pair of eyebrows.

“Sorry to bother you,” Warriors apologized, “but I was wondering if I might be able to get some information about the area, here.”

The man grunted and pointed one wrinkled finger to a box sitting on the counter. A few flyers sat inside proclaiming the breathtaking sights of the Outskirts.

“Uh. Thanks, but I don’t mean tourism. Within a few days’ ride of here, do you know of any towns or big settlements of any kind? Somewhere with a lot of people?”

The man made a slow, spluttering, thinking noise. Warriors tried very hard to hold onto his patience as the man scratched his belly and pondered.

“It’s urgent,” he added, drumming his fingers on the counter.

The man hummed. “Northwest ’a here. By the Plateau. Ordon.”

Dread sank in Warriors’s stomach as his worst suspicions were confirmed. “Thanks. Know of anywhere I could get a horse? Is there any mail scheduled to come by soon?”

The wheezing laugh he got in response was not encouraging. Looked like he was on his own. He thanked the old man for his time and pushed out the door wondering how in the world he was going to get there before it was too late.

“What are you doing here?” Sheik was standing outside, leaning against the porch railing.

Warriors swore and put a hand to his chest, stumbling back. “Sheik?! What are _you_ doing here?”

“I asked you first.”

Warriors rolled his eyes and creaked down the stairs. “Maybe I’m on vacation. You ever heard of those? You ever thought about taking a break from doing whatever creepy assassin stuff you do for a living?”

“I’m not an assassin.” Sheik slid over the railing and pushed down to the ground below, leaving a dent in the dead, brown grass.

“Mm hmm,” Warriors hummed sarcastically, giving a pointed eye to her stealth armor, face wrappings, and collection of knives. “Well, whatever the case, maybe this is your chance for the nice time off you’ve always needed. Loosen up a little, learn to relax, get a hobby, maybe it’ll do you some good.”

“Oh,” said Sheik, “this coming from the man who is paid to chase me down as a full-time job.”

“Hey,” that gave Warriors an idea. “Speaking of which, how did you get here, and was it by way of something fast?”

Sheik very rudely ignored him. “I want my knife back. You took it last time, about a week ago. It’s one of a kind. What did you do with it?”

The General Store was coming up on the end of the road. Maybe if he asked in there about a place to find a horse, he’d have better luck?

“Finders-keepers,” he told Sheik. “You try to stab me with it, it’s my knife now. Consider it payback for my shield.”

“Hilarious.” Sheik didn’t seem to think it was funny. She wrapped a hand around the handle of one of her remaining knives. “Give me my knife back.”

Warriors turned toward her, tilting his head. “You know, for someone whose whole mission involves breaking the law, you sure don’t know how to have fun.”

“That’s strange,” Sheik’s red eyes were icy, her jaw gritting with a hint of irritation, “I was just thinking that for someone who follows the law so blindly, you seem a little _too_ concerned with having fun.”

Warriors was surprised into a laugh. “There, see!” He spread his arms wide, “That was almost even a joke! That’s progress!” He gave her a wink.

Sheik stopped in her tracks. “Nayru and Naydra, are you _flirting with me?”_

“I’m just trying to have a friendly conversation,” he complained, pursing his lips. And dodging the question.

As it had started to lately, a small voice spoke up within him asking why he bothered ribbing her about it. They were enemies—all that should matter to him was capturing her and tracking down her allies.

He squashed the voice down with a vengeance and pretended not to notice.

He started up toward the General Store again, letting the issue slide. “Regardless, you really can have a free pass this time. I’m kind of busy right now to worry about what you’re doing here.”

“Thank you, oh merciful soldier,” she bowed, dripping with scorn. “I didn’t realize it was a federal crime to put a stop to some monsters, but I guess at this point I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Warriors was halfway to putting his foot on the first step of the stairs before the General Store but stopped when his brain fizzled out, not processing what he was hearing. “Monsters? As in how? Like, monsters as in—”

“As in bulblins and bokoblins, like people usually mean when they say ‘monsters.’” The look she gave him clearly said she thought this a stupid question.

He was still stuck on her last statement. “You’re here because of the Blin? Why would you do that?”

“Why would…?” She shook her head. “I don’t have time for this. I need to figure out where they’re headed before it’s too late. _If I may have your leave,”_ she tacked on, sarcastic.

“North of here.” The words fell out as she pushed past him, while he was still stunned. “The guy in the post office said there’s a town north of here called Ordon; that’s probably where they’re headed.”

She pivoted slowly, regarding him behind stony eyes. Warriors still staggered to try to understand what she was doing, but he couldn’t help thinking she seemed as surprised as he was. Were they both here for the same reason?

“They’re going to raid,” he explained. “I’ve seen it before. They’re getting ready for a big one; I have to get there first and find a way to stop them.”

Sheik opened her mouth to reply, then tensed. “We have to get out of here. They’re coming—”

Too late, Warriors saw the worn slats of the porch railing begin to rattle. The ground rumbled, shaking the store’s glass windowpanes and sending the long weeds around his feet dancing.

“—this way,” Sheik finished, faint. “We should— _what are you doing?!”_

Warriors drew his sword. “Better now than never; I don’t know if I can beat them to the town and get another chance. If you really do want to help, look for a big guy with long horns and a flag. He’ll be the leader.”

Sheik’s response was drowned out by the roaring cacophony building of steel and hoofbeats. Shrieks and howls cried out above the din, rising above the grunts of the bulblins’ hoglike mounts. As Warriors sprinted out into the open, a wave of riders crested the hill at the end of the road.

The sound of it poured into his ears, stealing his breath and making him all at once small, choking on the phantom scent of blood and ashes. He gritted his teeth against the memory and forced his mind here, on the smell of pines and old wood on the wind, on the feeling of his sword’s weight in his hand.

There was no way he could take them all on; he knew that. He combed across the forest of horns to find a spear towering above the rest, searching for fabric in the flashing armor.

And if the blade of his sword trembled, no one could say that it wasn’t from the vibrations of the earth beneath him.

“Which one’s the leader?” Sheik appeared at his side, knives at the ready. “If that one’s gone, will the rest give up?”

“More…or less.” His chest felt like it was shrinking around his lungs, but this was too important to back down now. “They should…start falling apart into infighting…deciding who’s the new leader. No directions. They’ll get distracted from the raid.” 

She was silent for a minute, mulling it over. “That might just work.”

A long strip of fabric flared crimson over the horde. “There!” Warriors pointed. “That one, with the long spear—!”

Sheik was off before he finished speaking. She leapt above the stampede, dancing on the backs of their mounts while Warriors had to wait for a break to muscle through, cutting down wily bokoblins tagging along as he went. It was their more intelligent cousins, the bulblins, that were the biggest problem—without a clan of fighters to follow, the bokoblins would scatter back into the wild.

Though she had the element of surprise clearing a path to the leader, Sheik’s task got a lot harder when she reached him. The hulking, long horned bulblin had plenty of time to see her coming and halt his mount, drawing a massive axe from his back. She was forced to backtrack to avoid a heavy chop from his blade.

While Sheik darted and wove around his axe from above, Warriors arrived to take advantage of the distraction—he scored a long cut along the bulblin’s side in a gap of his armor. A warbled, animalistic growl of rage sounded from the bulblin’s mouth as he tried to retaliate, leaving an opening for Sheik to land a hit near his collarbone.

His cry drew the attention of the others. They wheeled around, circling Warriors and Sheik in, baying either in anger or thirst for blood—he didn’t know. All he knew was that he had to end this fast. Clubs swiped out at him, forcing him to dodge and lose his focus. Any longer and he wouldn’t be able to keep this up. There were too many dangers to watch at once.

“Down!” Sheik’s voice cracked over the chaos and Warriors dropped, feeling the whistle of the axe over his head. He rolled to his feet, trying to read for another opening.

The bulblin’s leader was slow, but immensely strong. He snagged onto Sheik’s armor with one hand and threw her, sending her somewhere into the gathering crowd.

“Sheik!” Warriors stumbled from awkwardly lunging around an arrow.

A surge of relief filled him when Sheik climbed a mounted bulblin like a ladder and emerged from the crush, stealing his bow.

Then Warriors only had time to see the horror dawning in her eyes before white-hot pain cracked against the back of his head and the world was knocked into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: spooky vision
> 
> >:]
> 
> i swear to yall. on HYLIA i didn't read ch 6 of Blueskullcandy's Alone Together until after i wrote this whole section but now that i have it's literally my favorite written fight scene of all time. if you haven't read it, do so immediately 
> 
> i also realize now that "all the games put together" might be kinda confusing so to clarify i mean i'm snatching pieces from all the games and not that this is, like, a comprehensive crossover of Everything That Happens :P
> 
> I took some pointers from the bestiary notes Gladius#4162 posted on discord about the -blins!
> 
> Up next: Legend gets in a fight. Wild remembers something.


	14. Fight or Flight pt. 2/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legend gets in a fight. Wild remembers something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 of updates! 2 more to go!

A shaft of light appeared on the wall opposite Hyrule, scaring him nearly into a candlestand.

Legend grabbed his sleeve and halted his fall. He blinked at Hyrule through bleary eyes. “Do the others know you’re over here?”

“Yeah.” Hyrule tugged his arm free, defensive. “I’m taking first watch and then Twilight is up next.”

“Uh huh.” Legend didn’t look impressed. “And when was that supposed to be?”

Hyrule remained silent so as not to incriminate himself further.

“Look, we—” Legend cut himself off, pinching his nose. “At least come inside and sit down, you can keep watch perfectly fine from a chair or something.”

That…made sense. And he’d be even closer to Legend; it would be hard for anything to slip past him. Hyrule accepted the chair Legend dragged away from a writing desk, shoving off a pile of clothes to make room for him to sit. Legend flopped back on his bed, letting his legs hang over the edge like a droopy starfish.

“These, like, visions or whatever you have,” Legend continued. “How long is it usually before they come true? Is it always right away?”

“No,” said Hyrule. “It could be anywhere from right away to a day or two later. It could happen any—” he broke off, flinching at a shadow on the window. Legend frowned, following his line of sight, and they both waited a long moment while nothing else happened.

“…any time,” Hyrule finished lamely.

Legend rolled onto his stomach, his brow wrinkling. “You’re really wound up about this, huh? How do you know it hasn’t already happened? What if we scared the guy off earlier and changed the future?”

“They’ve never been wrong before.” Hyrule curled his knees to his chest, careful not to get any mud from his shoes on Legend’s nice chair. “I don’t want to go to sleep and have another one in my dreams, then wake up to—”

He went quiet. The vision he’d had at the Yiga camp haunted him. He’d ignored his warnings then, and by the time he’d realized the danger they were in it was almost too late. Wild would be dead if he hadn’t woken up first, and without him, the rest of them would be too.

Legend sat up and slid to sit on the chest at the foot of his bed. “Hey.” He looked Hyrule in the eyes. “You trust Twilight, right?”

“…yeah.” He did. It was a new experience for him, the amount of faith he felt in Twilight and Wild—Legend too. He’d seen that they were capable, and more than that, that they were _good;_ all of them.

“You think if we call him down here to keep watch, and both you and me get some sleep for tonight, he’s gonna let anything happen to me? You think he’s gonna fall asleep, or miss something, or that he won’t care?”

Hyrule hugged his knees. “No. He cares a lot. We all do.”

Legend softened. “Yeah, I—yeah. You three are like mother hens. I—appreciate your concern.” He laughed, but beneath the mask of exasperation there was a lurking perplexed wonder. It wasn’t the first time Hyrule had noticed it. He hoped that between the three of them, someday they’d manage to get Legend used to the idea.

Hyrule pushed himself from the chair, letting all the tension slowly decompress from his body, bit by bit. “Okay. I’ll get Twilight. But, just…as a favor, could you throw a few things together in a bag? Like, just pack some essentials, on the chance that we could need to leave in a hurry?”

“I don’t like the idea of running away,” Legend warned. “But…fine, if it’ll put your mind at ease.” He fished under his bed and dragged out a pack that had seen better days, knocking off a layer of dust.

“By the way, what did the guy look like?” He opened a little drawer from the grid behind his desk, rifling through something that clinked like glass bottles. “If I know, maybe I can keep an eye out.”

Hyrule paused by the door. “I didn’t get a good look at him. He was wearing a hood. I just know his eyes were glowing solid white and he had red stripes on his cheeks.”

Legend’s hand stilled in the drawer. “Two on each side? Did you see—was there blue, too? Did he have long hair or weird armor?”

Hyrule’s stomach churned. He tugged on the laces of his tunic. “That sounds a lot like him.”

Legend found the bottle he was looking for and started stacking potions carefully in his bag. “Let’s hope I’m wrong, then. Because I’ve heard stories about a guy like that, and from what I’ve heard, he’s the one the Empire sends when they intend to skip over the arresting part and straight to the execution.”

Hyrule hoped he was wrong, too. “Do you think he…knows? About you, I mean?”

The secret of the Triforce on Legend’s hand remained between them, still, though Hyrule had tried to convince him to share it.

If his life was at stake, he might not have a choice.

“Hard to tell.” Legend avoided his eyes, then tried for some humor. “Because, between the two of us, let’s just say there are perhaps…multiple incidents in my past that could be construed as…incriminating, in a certain light.” He bared his teeth in an exaggerated wince.

Already on his way out the door, Hyrule forced a halfhearted laugh.

Anxiety swirled in his mind as he made his way down the hall to get Twilight, wondering how to explain the situation. He didn’t like to think of what it meant if there was some kind of enforcer coming from the Empire itself; it sounded very much like a sign that they _had_ been found out as chosen heroes.

Fear dragged his feet, gluing them to the carpet, telling him every step he took away was _wrong, wrong—_

A grinding crash split the silence.

It wasn’t just anxiety.

_“LEGEND!”_ Hyrule drew his sword and ran for Legend’s room. “Twilight! Wild! Wake up!” He shouted as loud as he could, hoping it was enough to wake them.

Legend tumbled out into the hall before him, scrambling to shove the door closed behind his back. “Help me hold it!” His voice was high and tight with panic. “He’s inside!”

Hyrule barely had time for a bone-chilling glimpse of white eyes through matted hair in the darkness, wind howling through the shattered window, before he and Legend slammed the door to. Legend fumbled a dagger from the pack still clutched in one hand and jammed it into the keyhole.

“Sword—” Hyrule saw the wash of gold from his eyes flash over Legend’s face as he dragged both of them down, dodging the blade that buried itself in the door over their heads.

Twilight and Wild came bolting down the hall, tugging on armor and buckling scabbards. “What is it?” Twilight asked. “What’s going on—Legend, is that blood?”

“No time!” Legend pushed them along. Hyrule’s heart climbed into his throat. Where the shadows had hidden it earlier, he now saw there was a slash carving from one ear up Legend’s cheek toward his eye, spilling blood down onto his shoulder and _way, way too close to his neck._

“It’s fine,” Legend insisted, “it didn’t hit anything serious, we need to get moving!”

The thick, heavy wood of Legend’s door was rending, screeching apart into splinters inch by inch. “He’s big,” Legend shot off as they grabbed up what they could and made for the stairway, “and fast—faster than someone his size should be, there’s gotta be magic—anyway, we should—we should get him in the open somewhere. There’s more of us—out-maneuver him.”

Wild nodded his agreement, grimly determined.

“Who is this guy?” Twilight asked Hyrule. “You saw him earlier, Hyrule, do you know who he is?”

Hyrule fell silent and let Legend explain how he wanted to. Between the two of them, they worked out the same fear he’d had earlier. They’d been found out. Somehow, the Empire had figured out who they were.

“But, that’s not what you said, Hyrule.” Twilight insisted as they sprinted for the towering front doors. They didn’t have time for the side hallways they’d usually use. “You said he’s here for Legend. Not for us.”

Hyrule didn’t know what to say. Legend dug out an iron ring of keys and slid one into the lock holding the great metal latch barred across the doors, jiggling and twisting until it gave.

“That’s.” Legend started. “I mean. He-he’s. Could still.” He took a breath, uncharacteristically hesitant. Wild and Twilight both turned to him, concerned. Hyrule caught his eyes and nodded, trying to look encouraging.

“…be-for-the-same-reason,” Legend shot out in one breath. He shoved the latch up with his shoulder. The others joined to help. “I mean. He could. Would be here for the same reason for me. As. For the rest of you.”

Wild startled as the doors gave and swung open, connecting the dots. _“You’re a chosen hero?!”_

He sent wide eyes to Twilight, who…didn’t look quite a shocked. “I had…thought about it before,” he admitted.

Legend looked caught somewhere between self-conscious and touched. Then he swore. “Someone’s coming down the stairs. We don’t have time to talk about this right now.”

Wild nodded. “More, later.” His tone was unreadable.

_“If we make it to later,”_ Legend grumbled under his breath. It covered a nervousness that Hyrule didn’t miss underlying his words, but Legend was right. They didn’t have time. “Get outside the front gates; the last thing we want is to get stuck in here.”

His breath caught as they crossed the threshold into the blustering wind and dark. The chill of winter remained in the night, stinging Hyrule’s skin.

“Is that just it, then?” Twilight jumped in. He drew his sword at the ready, moving to guard Legend’s back as he unlocked the front gates. The wait made Hyrule feel like he would explode with tension, hopping from foot to foot. “Are we just gonna run away?”

The _‘again’_ was unspoken. It was like reliving the night Twilight and Malon had run from their home, leaving it to the Empire. Hyrule could read in every inch of Twilight’s frame that he didn’t like it. It felt too much like giving up; like letting the Empire continue to take and take without doing a thing to stop them.

“Not if I can help it,” Legend replied. “I just want to have this fight where _I_ wanna have it.”

Bits of plants and debris kicked up in the gale, pelting at them and billowing clouds of dirt as they ran. It obscured their view; their attacker could be right behind them and Hyrule wasn’t sure they’d know. They made for the main road on Legend’s urging, heading out for the open fields beyond.

It was only after a cart flipped behind them, shattering and sending shards flying close enough for Hyrule to flinch, that he made the connection to the rest of his vision far, far too late.

The sleeping market came awake one scream after another, people running from their tents and sending booths toppling in their wake. A mob came together in the space of heartbeats, hysteria spreading with frightening speed, like wildfire. People jostled and fought to get out of the stampede without caring who got caught in the way.

“Legend—Legend!” Hyrule twisted and found the others out of sight. A heavyset man crashed into him, nearly knocking the breath out of his lungs. “Twilight? Wild!” He was buffeted through the crowd, all the yelling and the destruction rising to a level loud enough to hit him like physical blows, overloading his senses.

Beneath it all, he heard something familiar. The little girl was crying.

He cracked his eyes open, forcing himself to take a breath. He searched the sea of limbs. When he couldn’t find her, he concentrated on his magical sight and opened his eyes gold.

There. She was curled in a tiny knot in the shelter of a cart turned on its side, nestled in a heap of overturned plants and flowers. She held the horse toy to her chest, sobbing as she searched the torchlit crowd with wide eyes.

Hyrule steeled himself and dove in. He shoved his way through, elbowing and giving as good as he got, refusing to be bowled over. He was pummeled and pitted with bruises, but he made it to the break behind the cart, heaving for breath.

The little girl pushed back and watched him warily.

“Hey,” he crouched down to her level, giving her some space. He hoped he wasn’t too intimidating. “Can I help you find someone? Who are you looking for?”

“My mama and my—and my papa,” she choked out. Tears ran freely down her face, tracking through soil left behind by the plants.

“Okay,” he dragged up a smile. As best he could, he tried to look calm and encouraging, swallowing his terror. “Why don’t you come with me and we can look together?”

She shook her head, turning her round eyes on the swarm behind him.

“Don’t worry.” He held out a hand for her to take. “I’ll keep you safe.”

The magical sight was fading from his eyes, but not before he caught a golden gleam on his own hand. Oh. Huh.

He wasn’t trying to be particularly heroic. He just knew too personally what it was like to be that small and alone to let anyone else feel it without doing something.

She put her little hand in his and allowed him to pick her up, holding her close to his chest. He thought he caught a glimpse of white light down the road and prayed the others would be alright for a moment. Then he pushed out to the edge of the street as quickly as he could, keeping the little girl shielded from the brunt of the jostling. Being up higher seemed to calm her; she buried her hands in the back of his tunic and held on tight, pressing her face to his shoulder. The toy horse stayed securely sandwiched between them.

He finally started to breathe again when they reached the edge. He moved behind the houses, where people were fewer and farther between, and started calling out “Is anyone looking for a child? Have you seen someone looking for a little girl?”

“Down by the last house!” A woman with dark skin ran up to him, blue and green twists bouncing on her shoulders—this, Hyrule realized ironically, must be the woman Legend told them to look for that sold dye. It seemed like it had been years ago, by now, rather than the morning before. “There’s a couple there looking for their daughter!”

Hyrule threw out a rushed thank you and made for the end of the village. The couple in question saw him first; they shouted out a name and the little girl wriggled from Hyrule’s arms, jumping down and running to meet them. Her parents thanked him in tears and he bid the girl a relieved goodbye.

Whatever came next, he told himself, committing the image of the little girl waving her toy horse’s hoof at him deep into his memory, at least one thing turned out alright.

It wasn’t hard to find Legend. The crowd was beginning to thin, but even before, they parted around the fight like water. It was still a ways up the road; Hyrule was gasping for breath by the time he got there.

The first thing he saw was their attacker. He stood in the eye of the storm, stance planted on the cobblestones as he strained to hold on to his shield. To one side, he held a beautiful sword that glimmered with gold filigree, tilted at an angle for balance.

Torchlight danced, pale and winking on a chain that snaked out from his shield—a hookshot. The tip of it was buried at the shield’s center, the end somewhere out of sight.

The man saw Hyrule. White eyes pinned him down, noticing and filing away his presence, cold and clinical.

_A man made of wood but unnaturally fast,_ the impression from his vision returned as the man jerked his shield, backed up by power that didn’t match such a stiff movement. _Magic,_ Legend had said. Hyrule could see it.

He hauled in the hookshot like a fisherman’s net and Legend appeared, landing on his shield with both feet. Though he tried to keep his white-knuckled grip on the hookshot’s handle, the attacker’s strength proved greater. He threw Legend from his shield and sent him rolling on the cobblestones.

In the moment Legend took to get his footing, the man’s sword bore down on him. Hyrule poured desperation into his aching legs and planted himself in the way to parry the blow. The man’s face didn’t show surprise—it didn’t show anything. He shifted to fighting Hyrule without even the slightest pause.

Hyrule wanted to ask where Twilight and Wild were, but he didn’t know if the man knew they were here; the last thing Hyrule wanted was to give them away.

“Behind!” Legend called, and Hyrule twisted. Something thin spun by his ear and missed the man by a long margin. “Keep him busy!”

Hyrule obliged. He knocked away the furious blows left and right, moving to let Legend in on his side. Together, they just barely managed to keep the man where he was.

Their efforts paid off. The boomerang Legend had thrown returned and clipped the back of their attacker’s head, spinning away. Legend snatched it from the air with a victorious laugh. It wasn’t much, but it distracted him long enough for Legend to get his hookshot back as well.

Hyrule’s hunch about the guy’s strength proved correct; his blows were nearly impossible to hold up against just because of their sheer force. On top of that, the way he fought didn’t make any sense. There was perceptiveness there, and glimpses of wickedly sharp strategy—Hyrule had nearly gotten a blow in under the man’s guard once and then found a pommel in the way of his head the next time he tried it. But fighters as good as he was always had a sense of presence; they embodied every muscle they had to its fullest, aware of every hair on their head. The way this man moved was almost like a person half-asleep.

The terrain was rough and unpredictable, forcing Hyrule and Legend to clamber over fallen crates and kick away barrels. They used it to their advantage. Most of the barrels ended up getting kicked into the path of their attacker and buying them the time they needed to stay alive.

Before long, Hyrule could almost imagine the man was flagging. He and Legend were flagging too. Hyrule didn’t like the way the blood continued to flow sluggishly from the wound on Legend’s face, and he was taking on his own fair share of injuries in the meantime.

They were at a stalemate. If this went on much longer, they were going to need to face a retreat or else risk sheer exhaustion taking them out. Hyrule was looking for exits, planning how he’d get this point across to Legend, when something changed.

“Hyrule! Legend! You out here?” Twilight shouted from somewhere down the road. He was off on one side, by the sound of it, searching the wreckage of the tents. Wild echoed him, their voices loud in the abandoned market.

“Wild—?” Legend broke off, his voice jumping up an octave as he swore. “No, no, no, Wild, no—”

Hyrule found Wild just in time to see him slowing to a stop in the middle of the road, his eyes staring wide and losing focus at their attacker. It was a flashback. Their worst fear had come true; Wild had stumbled into the middle of a fight and found himself struck helpless.

“Twilight!” Hyrule vaulted the wreckage toward Wild. “Twilight, come get Wild—”

He looked over his shoulder. Their attacker’s sword drifted for a moment at the unexpected turn, lowering ever-so-slightly. There was a strange moment of motionlessness, the man and Wild gazing at each other without seeing. Then the light behind his eyes pulsed and he tore away, advancing on Legend with renewed vigor.

Twilight and Hyrule reached Wild at the same time, trying without success to bring him back. “He’s zoned out,” Hyrule said, dread weighing him down. “We need to get him out of here.”

“Will you two—?” Twilight started.

“We’ll be okay.” Hyrule willed himself to believe it. “We’ll meet up you guys later, go on ahead. Maybe he’ll snap out of it quickly this time.”

His resolve set, Twilight pulled Wild’s arm over his shoulders and urged him along to shelter. Hyrule watched them go, hoping they weren’t making a big mistake.

When Hyrule returned to the fight, Legend was holding his own, but barely. He wielded his sword in one hand and boomerang in the other, crossing them for support when their attacker drove him down on one knee. Though he rolled and pushed to his feet again and again and was beginning to stumble, Legend spit blood and staggered on.

A fight burned in his eyes that was vicious as it was utterly grim. It scared Hyrule. He looked like a man bracing to take a final stand.

“Legend.” Hyrule climbed a crate and yelled for his attention, uncaring that he drew their attacker’s as well. “We need to go.”

“Feel free,” Legend snarled. “This is _my house—”_ he punctuated his words with a blow against the man with the glowing eyes, “ _my_ village, _my_ land, and these people are under _my protection._ I’m not running away.”

Hyrule helped him push the man back, kicking a landslide of debris loose in his path. “Legend,” Hyrule said, low and serious. “He’s not here for them.”

Legend was silent. Hyrule didn’t know what to say; he _couldn’t_ know what it was like to have a home to fight for and defend. He had no idea what it meant to leave one behind. But he _was_ getting to know Legend, and he had a strong suspicion that this wasn’t about that.

Enough of the wreckage was piling up to be able to pin their attacker under the weight of it. With his strength, it wouldn’t be for long. It might be the only chance they got.

“Please.” Hyrule grabbed Legend’s arm. “Come with us. This isn’t something to die over.”

His bluntness was enough to give Legend pause. He looked at Hyrule, _really_ looked at him this time, and from him to the Emperor’s enforcer. Legend’s exhaustion began to catch up to him, making him unsteady on his feet.

Legend exhaled after an eternity. “No.” His grip tightened on his sword. “It’s…it’s not. It isn’t.” He sheathed his sword, weariness making his hands shaky. “Let’s get out of here.” To the enforcer, he promised, “We can finish this another day.”

Legend and Hyrule made their retreat.

“Legend!” Twilight was relieved when they met him and Wild out at the far gate. “Hyrule! You’re both okay. Where are you injured, do you need medical attention?”

“I have red potions.” Legend was too tired to protest Twilight’s badgering, submitting himself to being poked, prodded, and examined. “We should get to the forest before that guy follows us.”

“Yeah,” Twilight agreed. “Wild?”

He nudged Wild with gentle concern. Hyrule startled when he realized the other hero was scrubbing at tears with the heels of his hands. By Twilight’s reaction, it had been happening for a while.

“Wild, are you okay?” Hyrule asked. Was he hurt, somehow, and Hyrule hadn’t seen it?

Wild shrugged. He held up his hands, still wet with his own tears, and did his best to convey his confusion without words.

“Something about the memory, I think,” Twilight said as they made for the brush at the edge of the forest. Hyrule directed them to water as soon as they could find it—the current would wash away their tracks, he knew, and any scent that might be left behind as well. At Legend’s advice, they followed the river downstream.

Wading through the pebbly banks like this, Hyrule could almost feel like they were back in that day, months ago, when Wild and Legend had gone “fishing.” This time around, the mood couldn’t be farther. Their party picked and skidded its way in silence, leaving sluggish red droplets clouding the water. All the while, they stayed alert to every shift in the trees or snapping branch. But they weren’t followed.

It wasn’t until they reached the cover of dusk that they felt safe enough to stop. Though Legend tried to hide it, his balance was going and Hyrule felt certain he was going to need another potion for blood loss. Twilight and Wild hadn’t gotten off easy either. All of them were relieved to take the strain off their aching bodies and tend to their wounds.

“That guy that attacked us,” Legend asked, wincing as he undid the makeshift bandages over his ear and cheek, “Wild, did he stir up some kind of memory of something bad?”

“Yes…?” Wild ended it like a question. “Kind of.” He leaned into the roots of a tree, rubbing at the old scars on his torso. “I’ve seen him before.”

They all turned to look at him. “Before you…were asleep, you mean?” Twilight checked.

Wild nodded. “It must have been right before. It was what I was remembering. I couldn’t…it was hard to…understand, exactly.” His fingers bunched in his tunic. “Hurt. Too much to pay much attention.”

They waited for him to find his words. “He was fighting the…word. Um. Machine monsters. Big ones, legs.”

“Guardians?” Hyrule guessed. Wild nodded again, his eyes unfocused.

“He had the same…eyes, stripes.” Wild drew the stripes under his own eyes to demonstrate. “Zelda was crying. I was…hurt, these.” He moved his fingers to trace the blast scars. “She didn’t want him to do something.”

Twilight frowned, confused. “What was he doing? Was he attacking you?”

“No. He…didn’t even see me.” It sounded like a good thing to Hyrule. For some reason, though, Wild seemed to find it the most haunting part of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Warriors finds himself in a rough situation.
> 
> Happy late birthday to ClutzyKanine! Glad I could randomly happen to update at the perfect time, and I hope it was a good one! <3


	15. Fight or Flight pt. 3/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warriors finds himself in a rough situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This one goes out to you Esthelle I was gonna upload this later today but since you're reading through now, here you go!)
> 
> Warning for a description of a panic attack right off the bat, additional warnings are below!

When Warriors awoke, fire and the grunting of the Blin filled his ears and he couldn’t breathe.

Ashes coated his tongue. The taste wouldn’t leave his mouth. Smoke choked his lungs and he was small, and running, and the night was alive with the shadows of monsters whose red eyes glinted in the dark. Everything around him was burning and crumbling. Home was gone; there was nowhere to hide. But there was nowhere to run. The only way to go was out, into the forest, and the trees were echoing with snarling howls.

He was trapped. He was trapped. He was trapped. He was trapped. He was—

Someone was talking to him.

“…tain… _Captain._ Try to breathe. Can you focus on that? Take a deep breath.”

“—can’t—” he choked. His chest was tight, seizing for air.

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t. But the place he was now roared with the sound of flame and he was surrounded, and he was _trapped._ He couldn’t get out.

(Was someone’s hand in his?)

“Focus on my breathing. Can you feel it? Like this.”

There was a steady, gradual rise and fall behind his back. It was slow and calm against the hurricane in his mind. He tried to focus on it. Rise, fall. Rise, fall. He waited for the next rise and tried to drag in a breath with it.

“Yeah, like that. Keep going. In and out. Do you know where we are?”

Something moved out of his hand while he focused on breathing. Maybe he’d imagined it. “We’re—the Blin?”

“We were captured. We’re at their camp.” There was no room for terror, only a matter-of-fact report. Mission parameters. It grounded him.

His head throbbed. Piece by piece, the memory of what came before began to return as he took in their surroundings. Dim light danced on the walls of a tent, rough and patchworked with clumsy stitches. Its source was a brazier in one corner. He could hear more outside; they must be the fire that he’d heard when he woke up.

He felt brittle grass beneath him. Looking down, he saw ropes circling around him and tying him with his back to someone else’s.

Sheik. Warriors’s panic was riding out, now, leaving him shaky, exhausted, and self-conscious.

“Thank you.” He said to the ground, feeling his ears burn. He waited and dreaded the inevitable questions, but they never came.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just focus on getting out of here.”

“Yeah.” That, he could agree with. Strategy. What did they have? “Do you have any weapons left?”

“No. The cursed Ganon-loving pigs got my daggers. We need to find something to improvise and get these ropes off; then we can work on getting our stuff back.”

He scowled at her turn of phrase but focused on the matter at hand. “Sounds like a plan to me.” He searched the tent for anything with a sharp edge. Their options were pretty scarce. The only things inside besides the two of them were a rough wooden pole holding up the center of the tent and the brazier in the corner.

“There are a few stones laying around,” he noticed. “We could use one of those.” He tried to stretch out a foot and snag one, leaning against Sheik.

“That won’t work.” Sheik pushed back, shoving him upright. “They won’t be sharp enough.”

“Well,” Warriors gritted his teeth, jerking back an elbow, “I don’t hear _you_ giving any suggestions.”

“We could burn the ropes off. Use the fire over there.”

 _“No!_ That’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard, do you want to set both of us on fire while you’re at it?”

Sheik growled, then huffed a short breath. “We’re not getting anywhere like this. We need to work together if we don’t want to die in here. Do you want to die in here?”

“No.” He didn’t.

“Okay.” He felt her shift behind him, thinking. “There’s a pole over there, right? In the middle?” Her shoulders twisted as she craned her neck to look. “What are the odds we can knock that over? It’ll get someone in here who might have a weapon we could take.”

“We probably could.” He played through the scenario in his mind. “I don’t think we could get the weapon, though. Not tied up like this. We’d probably get ourselves killed trying.”

Sheik was silent, which Warriors took to mean that he had a point. He tried going over their options again. “So…we have that pole, the fire, and us to work with. Anything else I’m missing?”

What was there in a tent? He must have set up hundreds over his years in the army. There were poles, canvas, stitching, more ropes…that was the last thing they needed, _more_ ropes. His gaze followed the ropes tied off at the top of the tent down, following the line of tension on the canvas, disappearing out of sight. At the other end, there, it would be held down by—

“Stakes!” He realized. “The tent stakes, if we can just reach them—”

“That might actually have a chance of working.” Sheik sounded begrudgingly impressed. “Let me see if I can reach. Move back some, this way.”

Together, they managed to wriggle toward the edge of the tent until Sheik was able to reach out with one leg, sliding it under the edge of the canvas. She tensed in concentration and felt around, catching the corner of the fabric around her ankle. “Alright,” she said. “Hold on.”

She kicked her leg and gave the fabric a sharp tug. All Warriors could see from his side was a ripple across the wall of the tent. This had better not be drawing any attention.

“It moved! I’m getting it!” She pulled it again. After a few more jerks, she rocked back and Warriors heard something thump on the dirt. “Here, I almost…ha!”

With one precise flip of her foot, she knocked the iron stake in grabbing distance and caught it with her fingertips.

“Help me get it.” Together, they sawed at the ropes with the sharp end of the stake. It was slow work. The stake had a jagged edge, but its tip was the only part that was truly sharp, forcing them to try to cut the strands of the rope little by little.

“Easy,” Sheik murmured sarcastically. “After this, all we have to do is deal with a score or two of bulblins out there waiting for us and not die. No problem.”

Warriors laughed and pretended not to hear the edge of hysteria creeping into his voice. “If you’re anywhere near as good at not dying as you are at disappearing without a trace, Sheik, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“It’s a skill.” He _knew_ he wasn’t imagining the note of pride in her voice. “And…”

She trailed off. The dry sound of sawing against the rope filled the silence between them as he waited for the rest of her thought.

“…it’s Artemis. Maybe we’re about to die anyway, so it doesn’t matter. But. That’s my actual name.”

Artemis. It was strange; in all these months he’d spent tracking her down, Warriors had learned so little about her. He knew about her fighting technique, her loyalty to the rebels, some of her habits. But not about who she was. He had guessed that Sheik might be an alias, but he never knew for sure.

“Artemis. Nice name.” He meant it; it suited her. “I’m Warriors.”

Finally, _finally,_ the ropes went slack around his chest and they were free. Warriors tried to stretch away the ghost of confinement itching in his arms, shaking out his buzzing legs. Sheik— _Artemis_ started rolling up the rope over one shoulder. Smart; they might be able to use it later.

He turned to her, intending to make a plan for what to do next, and all the thoughts fled from his mind.

Her face wrappings were gone. They must have come off at some point during the fight. Warriors found the sharp red eyes he was so used to seeing now framed by an equally sharp, weather-beaten face, nicked and scratched from years of combat. He was struck all at once by her elegance; he’d never have thought a face with so much roughness to it could at the same time be so graceful.

He realized she noticed him staring and he abruptly looked away, pretending to be occupied adjusting his scarf.

Warriors cleared his throat and tried to remember what he was going to say.

“We need to figure out what they did with our weapons,” said Artemis. She crouched down at the tent flap to sidle up and scan the outside.

“Ri—yeah. They have to be around here somewhere.” He hovered and tried to peer over her shoulder without making too much movement that could draw attention.

Through the thin sliver of a view, he could make out a few other tents and the light of a bigger fire. Bulblins’ shadows flickered on the tents’ walls. They were on the move, but not in a hurry. That was good. Better chances of getting around them.

One or two ramshackle watchtowers had been erected as well, thrown together with bent and tarnished nails jutting out from every angle. They looked unsteady—a potential weakness—but posed a problem of their own. It would only take a single moment to get an alarm raised and the whole camp descending on them.

“If you were a big ugly bulblin chief,” Artemis murmured, “what would you do with some nice new weapons?”

Warriors couldn’t help himself. “Aww, you _don’t_ think I’m a big ugly bulblin?”

She smacked his leg hard enough for him to bite down a yelp. _“Not_ the time.”

It wasn’t, he realized that, he was just trying to distract himself from the staticky panic threatening to encroach on the edges of his mind. “Sorry. I’d keep ‘em on me, I think. He probably intends to use them himself.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” She crouched lower, leaning to try to catch a better glimpse of the camp. “That tent, there.” She pointed. “It’s bigger than the others. Can’t tell for sure from here, but it looks like it might be near the center as well.”

“It’s gotta be important,” Warriors agreed. “Let’s take a look.”

Before Artemis could stop him, he was ducking out into the open. He sidled along the side of their tent, moving as quickly as he could until he was safely hidden in the shadows around the far side. They were backed up to the sheer face of a cliff, leaving only a small strip of grass for him to crouch in. Though they were still in deep trouble, being able to see more of the lay of the land made Warriors feel marginally better. Craggy outcroppings stretched between tall pines ahead; there were plenty of places to slip away without being seen if need be.

Rather than striking off on her own, like Warriors expected, Artemis surprised him by following suit. The space was a little tight for two people, but he managed to squeeze back against the gritty stone enough to make room.

“There’s a building,” she whispered. “I think I see lights. Something’s moving like a waterwheel.”

A whole new dread dripped down Warriors’s back. Now that he knew to look, he strained his eyes against the night and found a dip in the land before them. Below, there were hints of warm light and a regular, angled shape moving very much like a waterwheel indeed. What he had thought were more treetops resolved themselves into pointed roofs and weathervanes spinning serene circles in the breeze.

What was undeniably a town slept below, oblivious to the death perched right over their heads.

“There can’t be more than 30 or 40 people in a town that size, men, women, and children altogether. It’ll be a slaughter.” Artemis’s eyes were shadowed. “So, soldier. Where’s your great army now? I can’t imagine you’re here to fight these monsters on any official orders.”

Indignation rose up in Warriors to join his fear. “They can’t be everywhere at once. If the old royal family your cause seems to idolize so much hadn’t made this mess, there wouldn’t be so much of it to clean up!”

 _“Made this mess?!”_ Artemis repeated. “Where do—”

She broke off when a bulblin lumbered by, agonizingly slow. It was a long, painfully tense moment before the coast was clear.

“Where do you think these monsters come from?” She continued, lowering her voice again. “They didn’t just _appear out of thin air one day_ ready to terrorize the citizens of the kingdom.”

“Nobody knows where they come from,” he shot back. “Just that they keep to the old ways from the Royal Kingdom, back when power went to the bloodiest victories and only the strongest warlords stayed at the top. They used to serve the royal family, but when the royal family got taken out, they never got the memo about things being different now.”

Artemis gaped. “When the—they used to—” For the first time since he’d met her, he found her truly, fully at a loss for words. “You think that’s what it used to be like? What about—” she fumbled, “the provinces; the Zora’s Domain, and the Rito, and—and the Gorons and factions of the Gerudo that—what, you think they just keep pushing back against the Empire because they want something like _that?”_

“The Emperor offered the provinces peace; they refuse to take it out of pride.”

She sat back against the face of the cliff. “Is that what they teach you up there under Ganon’s thumb? Because I’d suggest you try asking one of them,” she gestured sharply to the town below, “who has to experience how _real_ life works for people out here.”

If she had only been angry, the words would have flown by him without a second thought. But it was the real note of incredulity under her words, the sheer bafflement at what she was hearing that gave him pause. Artemis sounded truly blindsided by what he was saying, and it confused him. Wasn’t this all common knowledge?

“Never mind.” She readied herself, turning her back on him. “It doesn’t matter. I just want to get my stuff back and get out of here to help that town.”

Warriors wanted to push the issue further, but he knew she was right. The townspeople didn’t have time to wait for them to settle an argument.

“To get to the big tent,” he thought out loud, “the best blind spot there is would be under that watchtower. It’s risky, but the path from here to there is almost completely out of sight, and then it would only take a second to get in through the back of the tent.”

“Pretty crucial second,” Artemis countered. “That’s the busiest part of the camp.”

“So,” said Warriors, “we should get through it as fast as possible. We can make it if we time it just right.” He eyed her beside him. “You got a better idea?”

She sighed. “No. If this gets me killed, I’m coming back to kill you myself.”

“Deal.” For a moment, he was so caught up in being tense with anticipation that her reply drifted past him. Then—

_“Did you just make a joke?!”_

She was already gone, flitting between tents like a shadow under the moon.

Warriors was a lot less graceful in following, but he managed. He was down a layer of plate armor that must have been taken when they were captured, which wasn’t the way he’d personally choose to increase his stealth, but it did help.

There were a few close calls. He thought he was going to exit the mortal realm when the bulblin on the watchtower snapped its head toward him, scanning the ground. He flattened himself behind a line of spears jammed in the dirt and held still, hardly daring to breathe.

The bulblin’s attention passed. Warriors took his chance once the watcher’s back was turned and ducked between the slats of the watchtower’s teetering base.

He and Artemis leaned in the shelter of the tower’s supports, slices of firelight crisscrossing them in the dark. The final step hinged on split-second timing; the bulblins wandered freely in this part of the camp, tearing at meat from over the fires and claiming weapons with no set pattern. They’d have to wait for an opportunity to move and take it in an instant.

More than once, Artemis or Warriors would jolt only for the other to stop them. A bokoblin’s snorting would sound nearby, or a bulblin would move in one of their blind spots. They both grew restless. The wait was getting long. Too long. Warriors knew he wasn’t imagining the way the sky over the jagged treeline was beginning to go gray.

Then, their worst fears came to pass when a horn lowed in the distance.

The raid was about to begin. They were out of time.

“This is my fault,” Warriors blurted immediately, “we shouldn’t have come this way—”

“No time.” Artemis buried a fist in his sleeve. “We have to move, _now.”_

Without further hesitation, she dragged him out from under the tower and across the exposed grass. Warriors didn’t get the chance to see if the snarls of alarm he heard were aimed at them before he and Artemis were scraping across the pebbly dirt and diving under the edge of the biggest tent.

Inside, he came up to find himself surrounded by crates and barrels. Weapons gleamed in heaps, arrowheads bristled from the barrels’ mouths, and the crates had been torn open to spill out—

“Bombs,” Artemis confirmed grimly. “Once they take what they want, they’re gonna wipe this place off the map.”

Warriors spied a wide, round sack on the ground, like some kind of quiver, or…

He snatched it up and started shoveling in bombs. “Not if I can help it.

“What are you gonna—” Artemis was cut off when a stream of bulblins began pouring into the tent with them. The monsters, halfway to grabbing their weapons, noticed the intruders and began a wave of screeching alarm.

Artemis swore and snagged a bow with a handful of arrows to start firing into their ranks. “I’ll find the leader. Meet me outside.” She took advantage of the chaos to dart between the bulblins and out of the tent.

Warriors sprinted to the nearest weapon he could find—a drillshaft glinting copper in the frantic torchlight—and shouldered the bomb bag. Then he dove into the tide of monsters. He had the element of surprise; none of them had been prepared to find an attacker hiding in their weapons storage, so by the time the thought occurred to maybe get a club out and retaliate, Warriors was already swiping them off their feet and into the paths of the others.

His first priority was distance. When he tore out through the flap of the tent and into the open camp beyond, it was the problem that dominated his mind. If he was going to pull anything off with a bag full of bombs and not get himself killed in the process, he needed to be assured of a quick getaway. 

Through the swarming ranks of bulblins, he glimpsed some of their large, hoglike bullbo mounts being dragged out and saddled for combat.

Warriors had a terrible idea. He had an awful, terrible, _excellent_ idea.

“Hey frog-face!” One of the bulblins looked up from tugging the reins at his shout. Its red eyes widened just in time to receive a drillshaft to the face.

Warriors kept the momentum from running to wedge a foot over the bullbo’s tusk and throw himself into the saddle. A bloodcurdling noise somewhere between a squeal and a growl rumbled through the beast. It bucked, nearly throwing Warriors over its head, but he held on. He tugged the reins and fought the bullbo’s attempts to turn and snap at him, urging it into a staggering run.

It took every bit of his strength to fight for control, but seeing the progression of shock and disbelief under the bandannas of the bulblins made it all worthwhile. He whooped and scattered bokoblins from underfoot.

He cut the reins hard to one side, wheeling the bullbo until he was thundering back toward the biggest tent. With one hand still straining to steer, he used the other to scoop out as many bombs as he could get from the bag at once and fumbled to get them lit.

Their fuses hissed and took, flaring bright in his hands. Holding his breath, Warriors pitched them into the tent and turned the bullbo to gallop like all Din’s fire was on his heels.

Soon enough, literal fire followed. A wave of searing heat washed over his back and blew out his eardrums, sending his hair whipping at his face. The bullbo reared up, but even as he nearly slid from the saddle Warriors hollered in triumph.

The smoke wafted away to reveal that the monsters’ arsenal was reduced to a jagged crater of burning canvas and charred barrel-hoops.

Every bulblin and bokoblin in the camp may be converging on Warriors now, but this town wasn’t getting razed as long as he had anything to say about it.

Meanwhile, down below, he could see lights and movement. The explosion was drawing attention from more than just monsters. Maybe, if they had any luck, the people living there were being warned of what was coming as well.

An arrow whizzed through the edge of Warriors’s scarf, cutting his celebration short. He needed to get moving; there were archers everywhere, and he didn’t have anything smaller than another bomb to retaliate. He goaded the bullbo on, crouching low to reduce the archers’ target.

Snarls and thundering hoofbeats cut through the tumult. He had riders in pursuit. He looked just in time to dodge a flaming arrow that barely missed his mount’s head. They were gaining on him, but he couldn’t ride and fight them at the same time.

Warriors had never been so relieved to hear a familiar, two-fingered whistle. Across the camp, Artemis had a dagger in one hand and his sword in the other, using both to fend off the bulblins’ leader. Warriors angled to ride toward her. “Artemis!”

When she saw him coming, she turned tail and started to build up speed. Her dagger went to its sheath and she put out a hand, the bulblin chief hot on her heels.

The bulblin chief swiped out to grab her. Warriors grounded himself in the saddle and stretched out to catch her arm. In the split second before the bulblin’s fingers could close on her shoulder, Artemis and Warriors heaved together and gave her the leverage to scale the saddle behind him, leaving the bulblin chief in their dust.

“Here,” she said between heavy breaths, and she passed Warriors his sword. Just in time—a bulblin archer was coming up on their flank, and Warriors swung out to knock it from its perch. Artemis had to grab on for dear life when he jerked against the still-protesting bullbo, pulling it into circling back around the edge of the camp, but she kept her seat.

“Trade you,” she grunted. “I’ll steer, you see what you can do with those bombs.”

Warriors passed off the reins. While Artemis grappled against the bullbo, he used his freed hands to rain fiery devastation in their wake, knocking out as many tents as he could reach. The monsters evidently didn’t like having the tables turned on them; as a watchtower creaked and plummeted, the bulblins’ leader lowered a fist and set his forces after the riders. They swarmed, obscuring him from sight.

“I’m out,” Warriors declared as he let the empty bag go.

“Where’s the leader?” Artemis gave the reins back and scanned the blazing remnants of the camp. “I lost him; I don’t know where he went.”

Warriors found him. His stomach dropped. The long horns of the chief bulblin were bobbing at the galloping speed of a bullbo in the half-dawn light, his red banner flashing through the trees. “He’s heading for the town. They must still be trying to raid.”

At the base of the hill, he was able to make out a handful of village fighters gathering to meet the oncoming horde. It had to be five or six—maybe ten at most. And only one or two of them with the stance of someone trained in combat. Even with the monsters’ reduced numbers, it still wouldn’t be enough.

“Well,” Artemis gritted, “let’s see if we can’t make the message a little clearer.”

They kicked at the bullbo and flew down the trail as fast as they could. At one point, they were pursued again and Artemis had to turn, hooking her feet backwards in the stirrups and steadying herself against Warriors’s back to pick the riders off by bow. Tree branches whipped by, logs and stones streaking underfoot. Their view was blocked, so all they could do was urge on just a little faster, a little more…

There. They rounded a corner and the leader was straight ahead. Artemis tried to bury an arrow in his head, but it glanced off the hardened leather of his helmet. For a moment Warriors almost wished that he had saved a bomb or two, but he threw the idea away as soon as it came. They were too close to the town now to risk it, anyway.

The leader wheeled his mount to face them and immediately Warriors realized they had a different problem altogether. Because the leader was coming at them with his massive battleax, his face contorted in rage and his bullbo set on a collision course with theirs. And while their bullbo swerved one way, Warriors and Artemis were swerving the other.

The saddle disappeared from beneath Warriors and the great ax carved a swath of air over his head. The ground rushed up to meet him, knocking the air from his lungs, and he found himself and Artemis in a painful tangle of limbs. They groaned and rolled over, trying to gain their bearings.

Warriors heard feet running in the distance. The bulblin chief’s horn trumpeted. Reinforcements; they’d better hurry, or they were about to have company.

Down the road, he heard a fight beginning to break out between the townspeople and the first of the raiders. But the leader had eyes only for Warriors and Artemis. He shook the ground dismounting his bullbo and gave his ax a slow, deadly spin.

Warriors stumbled to his feet. His head still throbbed, scrapes and near misses from arrows stinging his skin. His lungs were still fighting to regain the air he lost in the fall. But he readied his stance, lifting his sword.

Artemis rose and stood at his back. She hefted her daggers in an unspoken challenge. Together, they planted themselves on the road and faced down the towering bulblin chief in the rising light of morning.

A moment hung in the air of tense anticipation.

Then the bulblin chief roared and charged.

“Block him—” Warriors bit out, hoping Artemis understood. Between the two of them, they might be able to muster the power to stop his blade. He caught the edge of the ax on his sword and for a heartstopping moment was alone, the hilt of his sword threatening to pull out of his hands.

Then Artemis crossed her daggers behind his blade and _yanked,_ dragging the ax off-course. She almost got it. The ax’s handle came down in range of her feet and she kicked, nearly dislodging it from the bulblin’s grasp.

Unfortunately, the bulblin’s strength proved greater once again. He whipped the flat of his ax back across Artemis’s face and sent her reeling.

Again and again, they tried to separate him from his weapon to no avail. Warriors tried coming at him from a different angle, striking until the bulblin’s guard was worn down over time, but he never seemed to get tired. Even when they drew blood, cutting long slices in his armor, he lumbered on.

Warriors’s skin crawled with anxiety. They didn’t have _time_ to wait him out like this. If they didn’t do something quick, that backup would be on them any minute now.

But here, even Artemis’s agility was doing them no good. She avoided the swinging ax with ease, but her strikes were quick, precise. They didn’t have the power behind them to do real damage to the bulblin. Warriors, on the other hand, wasn’t agile _enough._ When he tried attacking over the bulblin’s shoulder, thinking he was occupied with Artemis, Warriors found the ax’s heavy handle driving into his stomach.

He was flung back against the hard roots of a pine and dazed.

His vision blurred. _Get up,_ he willed himself. Now wasn’t the time to quit; his job wasn’t done.

Through the pine needles and underbrush, a chasm appeared in his clearing vision.

Warriors lifted his head. He hadn’t seen it before, but the road they were on forked off to a gap in the cliffs. Right at the edge, there were posts and what probably used to be some ropes; they looked like they’d been cut at some point and drifted their frayed ends now in the wind. There probably used to be a bridge there of some kind, but all that was left were a pair of open gates and the void beyond.

It looked like, Warriors realized, their situation might be about to get very, very ironic.

“Artemis!” He called. He pushed himself up against the trunk of the tree. “Remember that shield you owe me?” He hoped she’d remember the fight he meant and make the connection.

Artemis leapt over the bulblin’s slash. “Now? _Now?! Really?!”_

Warriors jerked a thumb at the canyon.

Artemis looked at the canyon, then at Warriors. Then back at the canyon.

Then she grimaced, rolled around the bulblin, and started running.

“Hey! Ugly!” Warriors made for the iron gates and clanged his sword against the bars. “Anybody ever tell you that you got a face like a bokoblin’s—well,” he reconsidered. “That may be a compliment for you.”

“Less talking, more helping!” Artemis pressed. She danced away from the ax, doing her best to stay precariously just out of reach enough to keep the bulblin moving.

Warriors launched a rock from the side of the road at the bulblin’s head, adding to the distraction. All the while, he kept up filling the air with clashing. “Over here, big guy! Hey!” He whistled.

Artemis and the bulblin broke the final stretch to the edge. Warriors put out a hand, ready to catch her from going off. The bulblin realized his mistake—too late. His momentum carried him to the lip of the drop and slowly, inevitably over, scrabbling and clawing all the way down.

“Artemis—!” Warriors jolted. As Artemis skidded to the end of solid ground, she ignored Warriors’s hand. One foot went off. Her balance followed and she went down, hard, burying her fingers in the dirt. Warriors went cold with terror and he was already on his knees, reaching out to grab her.

He seized her arms and dragged them with all his weight, pulling at the armor on her back, too, when he could reach it. After a moment of dangerous teetering, he was hauling her back onto solid land. They both collapsed in the cold, pebbly grass, side by side gasping for breath.

“You didn’t think I was actually going to catch you.” Warriors didn’t know why it made him feel like he was sinking, like the cold earth was claiming his body where it lay. Why _should_ she trust him? Last time their positions had been reversed, back so many months ago during that fight over the bridge, she’d tried to drag him to his death. It only made sense she’d expect him to return the favor.

She turned to examine him with her red eyes. “But you did.”

He pushed to his feet, uncomfortable with her scrutiny. She took his cue and brushed herself off, doing the same. Already, he could hear the fighting dying down at the end of the road. Bulblins were running; the wails of their falling leader echoed far and wide, driving them into retreat.

“Thank you, both.” A swordsman with a beard and a shock of blonde hair was waiting for him and Artemis when they retraced their footsteps back towards town. A few of the other fighters were milling around nearby, injured but generally whole. “This town owes you our lives,” he said, clasping Artemis’s hands in his.

“I hope that’s the last you see of them,” Warriors warned, “but there’s more nearby. They have a camp that’s mostly wiped out, and they should be busy scrambling without their leader, but you can’t be too careful. One or two could—”

Artemis stiffened, twisted, and drew a dagger. “Captain!” She threw it over his shoulder, eliciting a screech.

Warriors grabbed his sword’s hilt and turned just in time for a spear to stab him through the middle.

“Captain— _Warriors!”_

The world swam around him. Shock. He was drifting and numb, watching everything move as if underwater. Artemis threw more daggers, then picked off the last of the stragglers with her stolen bow. His tunic was warm and wet against his torso.

He stumbled and fell to his knees.

People were swarming around him. He was beginning to feel the pain, now. It spread in waves until he could hardly breathe for it. Warriors coughed and, in spite of the rising sun, felt as if the dawning day was growing steadily colder.He knew it was a bad sign. Artemis knew it, too. Warriors was growing clumsy as he started to tremble and he slipped. She caught him, lowering him to the ground.

Someone handed her a wad of bandages and she did her best to stop up the wound around the spear. Good; she knew not to move it. Warriors didn’t think he had the presence of mind left to tell her, anyway, if he’d needed to.

He wasn’t sure by this point that it even mattered. He’d seen wounds like this before.

She said something to the swordsman and he answered, grim. Warriors couldn’t make it out over the ringing in his ears and the way the world was beginning to go quiet. The swordsman sent someone running back toward town.

Left with only Warriors, Artemis’s indecision shone through. She cast about through the forest; looking for what kind of answers, he didn’t know. The swordsman returned and asked a question. They both looked down at Warriors.

The last thing Warriors saw before cold nothingness claimed him was Artemis securing his bandages and sliding her arms beneath his knees and shoulders, determination burning in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings: fantasy violence and non-gory description of a stab wound
> 
> sorry not sorry
> 
> Any resemblance to Alone Together is still 100% accidental, but the closer the better because it is amazing!! I've reread that chapter like 3 times now!! seriously, read it !
> 
> Next up: Everyone tries to figure out what happens next. Hold onto your butts, everybody, 4/4 is gonna be a long one!


	16. Fight or Flight pt. 4/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone tries to figure out what happens next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to cameo city, babes

For the longest time, Warriors drifted just outside of consciousness.

He felt pain and movement, and he heard voices, but had no more ability to understand or respond to them than if he was dreaming. He thought he _must_ be dreaming, at some points. He’d blink and find himself somewhere completely different, like the back of a horse, or his childhood bedroom, or a hot, muggy jungle.

Slowly, he became aware of a warmth spreading, gentle, across his torso. Soft as a receding tide, it drew away his pain, returning his breath bit by bit like sand beneath a wave. A faint blue light left a web of refractions on his eyelids; there must be water nearby.

Someone was humming in a distant, quiet kind of way. The voice left disconnected pieces of its song fading in and out, a distracted habit while concentrating.

Warriors opened heavy eyes to a Zora woman kneeling over him.

The refracting light he’d seen wove out from between her fingers where they lay over his chest, their glow sinking deep beneath his skin. It gleamed over her crimson scales, giving her the impression of luminescence. She seemed ethereal, like an apparition.

Still sluggish from blood loss, Warriors slurred, _“…Nayru?”_

The Zora’s yellow eyes widened and she snickered, the light between her hands fading. “Not quite, I’m afraid, but I’m flattered.”

Warriors was…he was laying on something. He was on the ground, but there was a pallet of blankets beneath him. Now that he looked, he and the Zora seemed to be in the corner of some stone formation, carved but old enough to have moss seeping into its weathered runes. It was hot; sweat stuck his hair to his skin and he could hear insects buzzing.

A stretch of canvas closed them off, preventing him from seeing any more. He tried to crane his neck and look past his feet, but there were crates and broken boards there shoved off to one side, like they’d been piled up in a hurry.

He went to push himself up and met resistance. Looking down, Warriors found a handcuff around one wrist, its chain snaking around a blocky pillar.

His brain failed to connect the dots and he tugged on it, making a questioning noise.

“My apologies,” said the Zora. “But you’ll have to excuse us if we’re a bit wary of letting an Imperial soldier wander around unchecked. Here,” she pulled back to offer him a vial of red potion, “this might help you get your bearings.”

He already had the cork off and was swallowing it down when the heavy, suspicious realization finally clicked in his mind. He shuffled back against the chain, letting the empty bottle bounce and roll across the ground.

Only to find that he…wasn’t being poisoned. The red potion’s effects were completely normal; the feeling was beginning to return to the tips of his fingers, the cold numbness of blood loss receding by the second.

“Where am I?” He didn’t understand. “Are you—is this—?”

“The resistance, yes.” She scooped up the bottle and returned it to a pouch on her hip. She didn’t seem to be interested in making any move to attack Warriors, but he watched her movements warily all the same.

After all these months of searching, Warriors had finally found it. And he’d done it by _getting taken prisoner._ For the second time in a row, even. If he survived this, there was no way he was keeping his rank. At best. At worst…he shuddered to think of what would happen when General Vaati found out.

Come to think of it, though…how _was_ he surviving this? After an injury like that, he should have been dead.

“You healed me. Why?” The wound still ached beneath his touch. He could feel the knot of scar tissue there that he’d probably carry for life. But the sense of breathlessness was gone, and the urgent, devastating pain. He was certain he’d been on the brink of death, but this woman brought him back.

The Zora stood and stretched her legs, shaking them out. “Artemis asked me to. She was the one that brought you here. And if she was the one asking…” She smiled, soft in spite of her pointed teeth. “I trust her judgement in character, regardless of whose crest you wear.”

Warriors sat back and stewed on this information, unsure what to make of it. It struck at him, that this stranger would be willing to heal a man in enemy uniform just from someone else’s good word. “Thank you.”

 _“Mipha!”_ There was a pillar marking the edge of the makeshift tent, opposite the stack of crates. It left a gap through which Warriors could only glimpse more mossy stone, but as a voice hissed from somewhere outside, he caught a glimpse of red and white. “Is that him? Is that the soldier? He’s not attacking you, is he?”

Mipha laughed. “No, dear,” she called, “he’s being perfectly civil. No need to worry.”

Warriors wasn’t sure he liked being discussed as if he wasn’t present, or that they wrote him off so easily. When the voice’s owner revealed himself, though, he reconsidered. Because that was a _very big fish_ and Warriors was still chained to a pillar.

“I hope you’re being kind to my sister,” said the towering Zora, his arms crossed forbiddingly over his chest.

“Yes—yep,” Warriors nodded hard. “I was just thanking her for her generosity.”

“Good,” the Zora man brightened. “Because I’ll admit, I’ve always been curious to meet an Imperial soldier face to face. Unfortunate that the circumstances can’t be better; but that’s life sometimes! And—ah—my apologies, but I’m afraid I’m not the only one.”

There were. A _number_ of people peeking in now. A blue Zora girl with big, round eyes, a timid-looking Goron, a little boy in green with a red swirl on his chest, and a suspicious red-haired woman in dancer’s clothes all crowded in the narrow gap. A girl with white hair and a red Sheikah eye painted on her forehead glanced in as well. She squeaked when she noticed him looking and disappeared again.

Warriors drew his knees up to his chest.

“Hey, knock it off!” Someone snapped, scattering the onlookers. “This is a prisoner, not a zoo, don’t you have work to be doing? Oh, wait, I forgot that _I’m the one who has to do everything around here.”_

A Rito took their place and gave Warriors a withering glare, nocking an arrow to his bow. “You may have Artemis fooled. But don’t think that goes for the rest of us. I’m watching you.”

Warriors was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed. “I’m sure that’ll be _riveting,”_ he bit out, defensive in his fear, “make sure you don’t blink and miss how I’m gonna do so much damage while I’m chained to a pillar.”

He jingled the chain for emphasis.

“Hey. Why don’t you let Artemis speak for herself?”

Warriors wondered whether he was going to be making a habit out of being relieved to see her. She shoved the Rito away gracelessly and met the Zoras inside. “Mipha, Sidon, if you wouldn’t mind letting us talk. I’m sure he can hold out for five minutes without trying to kill me?”

She directed the question to Warriors. He nodded, wondering if duty required he make more of an attempt to do so. It wasn’t like he was going to be able to accomplish much at the moment.

The silence between them was thick as she settled on the far side of the makeshift tent, sitting with her legs crossed. Outside, Warriors was beginning to be able to make out sounds of life and activity. It must be a sizable camp. Just from the onlookers he attracted, Warriors had already seen a vast mix of races, some he didn’t recognize at all.

He decided to break the silence. He couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re not going to get information.”

Confusion clouded Artemis’s face. “Pardon?”

“If that’s what you want. You’re not going to get any information out of me.”

“Well,” she mourned dryly, “it would have been nice, I guess.”

She was joking, rolling her eyes. She wasn’t getting it. _Why_ was he here? Warriors had never heard of the rebels taking prisoners before. Judging by their reactions to seeing him and his thrown-together prison, they _didn’t._ So what point was there to keeping him alive?

“What do you want from me?” If she would just tell him, he could brace himself and stop spinning worst-case scenarios in his mind. He couldn’t help thinking something worse was coming; that they intended to torture him or make some kind of example out of him.

Artemis gestured to Warriors’s closed and bandaged wound. “To heal you, stupid. Do you have eyes?”

 _“And then what.”_ He tried to wrap his arms around his knees, but the chain stopped him. He scooted closer. “Now that I’m here, I know you’re not just going to let me go. I’ve seen your camp. Just tell me why I’m really here!”

“Because you saved my life!” Artemis threw up her hands, surprising him when her intensity matched his. “You saved my life, Warriors, and I couldn’t just let you die after that. Because you risked your own life for innocent people and I think that somewhere in there, under all the brainwashing and propaganda, there might actually be a good man.”

“So…so…” A crash of conflicting emotions battled for dominance. He was outraged, he was moved, he was vindicated, he was confused; nothing made sense. What, she just saved him for—for the sake of it? For no kind of later purpose? And the rebels, they were just…going to let her? Going to _help,_ even?

Artemis ran a hand through her hair, pulling more out of her fraying braid. “I don’t know what we’re going to do now,” she admitted. “Mipha was the only person I knew who had a chance of saving you, and she was here, so here we are. And now you’ve seen our camp.”

“So now I’m just…stuck here.” Warriors summed up.

“For now…yeah. I guess you might as well get comfortable.”

“Great.” He fell back against his pallet.

* * *

“Go ahead and cover the window,” Twilight advised, locking the door behind him. “We should take another look at Legend’s wound and check on how it’s doing.”

It was late enough to almost reach the gray light before sunrise by the time their party stumbled upon a tiny inn. A steady drizzle had built up into a howling thunderstorm and, judging by the state of the sorry establishment, this type of weather seemed to be common for the area. Its meagre form was steeped and sagging in water damage—far from impressive, and therefore the perfect place to lay low for a little while.

As Wild dragged a pair of motheaten curtains over the window, its panes rattling against the storm, Hyrule collapsed into one of the rickety beds without caring about its dampness. He was soaked through anyway; it made no difference to him. The truth of his identify successfully secured, Legend wearily shed his cloak and let it fall to the floor. He hadn’t wanted to take his chances with being recognized, even this far from home.

“I can do it myself,” Legend protested without any real fire. He sat down heavily on the bed, nearly listing over and doing nothing to prevent Twilight from sitting next to him and unwrapping the bandages anyway.

“That’s nice,” Twilight replied tonelessly. “Anyway, so, good dodge. It looks like your jaw caught most of the impact, which can’t feel good, but it kept the blade from hittin’ any major arteries. That must have taken impressive reflexes, judging by how close it looks like he was; most people couldn’t have pulled it off.”

“Uh. Thanks.” Legend blinked, looking unsure about what to do with the approval. “It’s…I have some experience in a fight, so. It’s…from practice, I guess.”

Twilight dug out a red potion and handed it to him, then some ointment for the wound. “Do you mind? I don’t want it to get infected.”

Legend waved his consent, allowing Twilight to work the ointment in carefully and biting out a wince at the pain. The red potion began to do its job, knitting together the edges of the slash a little at a time.

Twilight was quiet when he next spoke up. “The red potions should help, but it’s probably gonna leave a scar.” He finished and pulled back. “I’m sorry. We should have been there.”

Hyrule had been drifting in his exhaustion, half-asleep and sinking into the hard mattress, but at Twilight’s words a wave of guilt dragged him awake again. “I knew. I knew he was coming, and I still left you alone.”

Wild pulled his cloak tight around his shoulders. “We weren’t fast enough.”

 _“We talked about this._ I’m fine.” Legend grabbed the corner of Hyrule’s tunic where he was sprawled out behind him. “Please don’t beat yourselves up on my account, I can’t…don’t do that, not on top of everything else that’s happened tonight.”

Legend gritted his teeth. “The Empire’s taken too much from me. I’ve lost too many things to that pig that I can never get back. And now he takes my _home,_ too. As if it wasn’t enough already.”

He curled on the edge of the bed, his wet, pink hair falling over his face in clumps. Two fingers pinched the thin chain around his neck, twisting it as a slow, mournful comfort. Again, the nauseating suspicion of its meaning rose in Hyrule and he wanted to scream for the bitter defeat in his friend’s voice.

“They didn’t take everything.” Hyrule rested a hand on Legend’s arm. “We have you, now, and you have us. And somewhere out there, we know that there’s a rebellion’s worth of people willing to fight back. That’s enough for a real chance.”

“And someday we’ll come back for it.” Twilight echoed his mother’s words from all those months ago, a solemn promise. “It’s your home; we’ll fight for it if we have to.”

Legend huffed a tired laugh. “You know the worst part? Just a little while ago, I got a note back from all those letters I sent out. The rebels said they got them, and they wanted to send someone to meet me. And now, whenever they come, I won’t even be there anymore.”

“Could we go back?” Wild tried. “Maybe we could catch their messenger.”

Twilight shook his head. “The Empire’ll be waiting and watching for us. The last thing we wanna do is get someone from the rebellion caught for being seen with us.”

Talking about messengers brought up a niggling memory in Hyrule’s mind. They _had_ met someone with a message for Legend. Not from the rebellion, probably, it had been something about…

“Speaking of,” Hyrule said. He pushed himself up, propping his back against the peeling wall. “We didn’t have time to explain, but we met a guy during the market who wanted to talk to you. I don’t think it was someone from the rebellion, he was…” asking about gossip, but Hyrule wasn’t about to bring _that_ up now, of all times. “He ran off before he could finish, but he started trying to say something about Lorule.”

“Huh.” Legend unfurled, eyes narrowed. “I wonder what _they_ could want. I don’t have the first idea what’s going on in Lorule lately.”

His tone was derisive, acidic even. Whatever reason there was for him not to know the current events of Hyrule’s independent neighbor-territory, it was evidently something personal.

Wild frowned. “Yeah, he wanted to kn—” he made eye contact with Hyrule, who gave him a warning look, and cut off his thought. “Yeah. That’s what he said. But, anyway, if you don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, I guess we should try to make a plan for what we’re gonna do next.”

“Beats me.” Legend gestured sharply. “The only plan I ever had was finding those rebels, so.”

Wild thumbed the back of his left hand, almost unconsciously. “We should look for the other heroes. They have to be out there, somewhere.”

Legend said nothing. Hyrule could practically feel the tension radiating off of him, waiting to see if Wild had anything else to say about him being one of those heroes and how long it had taken him to say so. But Wild didn’t, at least for the moment. He seemed lost in thought.

Twilight had to be thinking of his mother, Hyrule knew, wondering if their chances of finding her again were dwindling with every day they put off the search. He was worried too. Malon had shown him kindness without knowing anything about him, and he hated to think of anything happening to her.

“Twilight?” He toed Twilight’s leg.

“Nothing’s gonna…” Twilight’s lips thinned. “About…my mom. It’s been long enough now that…nothing’s gonna change if we have to wait a little while longer. Anything that would… _happen_ …has happened already.” He hunched into himself. “We’re not gonna do her any good knocking on Ganon’s door and gettin’ ourselves killed.”

It was harsh, but it was the truth. If Malon was going to be executed after her capture, it would have happened long ago, by now. If she was still alive, she had a good chance of staying that way.

“Wild, you said we should look for the other heroes. But we can’t just keep wandering aimlessly either and hoping we’re gonna stumble across ‘em at some point.” Twilight sat up, determination settling over his shoulders. “If we’re searching out the rebels, there’s a good chance the other heroes would too, right?”

Legend considered. “Makes sense to me.”

To Legend, Twilight directed, “You contacted ‘em once. Do you think you’d be able to do it again?”

“I might?” He grimaced. “But the first time, I could wait around in one place for an answer. Now, I don’t have anywhere to tell them to…”

He broke off with a huff. “I mean, I guess not _nowhere.”_ Judging by his tone, it might as well be. “And I guess we don’t have any better ideas.”

“Better than…?” Twilight prompted.

“Figuring out for ourselves what that guy felt like I should know about Lorule?” Legend let himself fall back on the bed, bouncing the tough mattress with a solid thump.

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “What we really need is somewhere to lay low and avoid suspicion while we wait for more information. Do you know somewhere like that we could go?”

“In…a manner of speaking,” Legend told the ceiling. “At this point, I feel like they _certainly_ owe me one.”

“So…” Twilight circled a hand to prompt again for more.

Legend threw an arm over his face. “You guys ever wanted to meet the queen of Lorule? Seems like as good a place to lay low as any.”

Hyrule choked. _“Anybody else got any secret royal connections we should know about?!”_

He began to feel faint when Twilight went deep in thought. “There’s an off-chance I met Lullaby, once, but I don’t really remember it.”

“Cool,” Hyrule said in a high-pitched voice. He gave a thumbs up.

“I already told you mine,” Wild put his hands in the air to deny responsibility. “If I suddenly remember more, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Guess we’re headed through Hebra, then.” Legend summed up. “I hope you guys don’t mind snow.”

\---

Later, after Legend was out cold and the others had snuck off to check their surroundings one more time, Wild and Twilight finally managed to corner Hyrule into answering their questions. He felt a twinge of guilt at sharing his guesses about Legend’s secrets—he didn’t even know, really, he only had suspicions. But the last thing he wanted was for them to accidentally drag up painful memories about whatever that ring meant, especially in the wake of Legend losing his home.

And maybe, some part of him was hoping they’d prove him wrong. That after he told them about the ring, and about how Legend spoke of the people who’d been close to him—keeping the personal details of their conversation vague, wanting to spare him that at least—maybe they’d tell Hyrule he was jumping to conclusions.

When it was all laid out, though, and twin horror was dawning in Twilight and Wild’s eyes, his thoughts were only confirmed. Those closer to Legend, like the villagers they’d been spending their time with and those who lived on his lands, would know enough not to talk about it. But anyone from farther away, say, a traveler passing through? That was exactly the kind of person to get out-of-date information while missing something more recent.

Like hearing a widespread announcement of a nobleman’s coming marriage and not of a more recent tragedy that ended it. Or, more horrifyingly, Twilight perceptively pointed out, judging by the fact that Legend still carried the ring, possibly even prevented it entirely.

 _The Empire’s taken too much from me,_ he’d said. _I’ve lost too many things to that pig that I can never get back._

Between all three of them, in a shabby little inn in the middle of nowhere where their ex-liegelord-turned-traveling-companion slept unknowing in the next room, a secret vow was forged.

If it was anywhere within their power, they’d make sure Legend didn’t have to add to that list ever again.

* * *

Before she even reached her destination, Riju already knew she was too late.

This was _supposed_ to be a part of her training—to lead their faction of the Gerudo someday, Urbosa had told her, she’d need to be experienced in forging alliances and weighing out the trustworthiness of those on the other end. Giving her the task of reaching out to potential contacts for the rebellion was an act of faith; she’d need to make her way beneath the attention of the Empire and be capable of holding her own in a dangerous situation.

None of that mattered, now. She cleared the edge of the forest to find the village she’d been searching for in tatters, lone figures picking over the wreckage and smoke trailing high, thin wisps into the sky. Somehow, either by interception or terrible coincidence, the Empire had beaten her here first.

Riju hung back, indecision warring within her. She cursed herself for her slowness. If she’d gotten here a bit faster, pushed a bit harder, maybe she could have been here in time. She shoved down the shame, though; it was useless and unproductive. She’d had no way of knowing, and the longer journey had been for the sake of caution.

Leaders didn’t harp on their mistakes; they learned and made the best with what they had in the present. Now that she was here, the best Riju could do was try to get more information.

She ducked deeper into her cloak and pulled her scarf up, hiding her distinctive Gerudo hair and features. It wouldn’t do well to draw attention, and she knew her appearance was memorable.

Near the end of the road, a handful of men and women were working to turn a cart upright and gathering tools scattered across the cobblestones. Beyond, she could see a similar scene reaching all the way up the main road of the village. This had once been a bustling market full of merchants; whatever had happened had thrown them and their wares into disarray, leaving them picking up the pieces in the morning among scorched and splintered remains.

“Excuse me, sir?” She approached one of the men gathering tools from the ground. “What happened here? What was it that caused all this destruction?”

“Didn’t see it myself,” he grunted. He threw a long shovel over one shoulder and bent down to gather some tongs. “Just heard fighting and saw everyone go crazy. Some ‘re saying it was the young Lord here. Nobody’s seen him since, far as I’ve heard. Maybe it didn’t turn out so good.”

He shrugged and moved on to speculating with one of the other merchants, none the wiser to how disappointment washed over Riju at his words. The general consensus seemed to be something about the noble in question owing a good deal of money to the Empire, with a range from apathy to approval and some of the locals going so far as to boast this as a great feat worth proclaiming to the masses.

Not that it ended up doing him any good. The fact of the matter for Riju was that he was gone. Whatever he did to draw this attention, whether it was directly caused by her and the other rebels or not, her contact was no longer here for her to meet. It looked like she’d be returning empty-handed.

As she turned to leave, though, a voice raised over the others caught her attention.

 _“…anyone_ see what happened? Anyone at all? Please the young Lord—does anyone know what happened to Legend?” The voice cracked in desperation.

Riju steadied her hood and combed the crowd. Heads were turning to the source of the voice, and she followed their gaze. A figure in a purple cloak and blue scarf was floundering, hands cupped around his mouth. Though his face was hidden, the way he stumbled revealed his frantic weariness, moving from merchant to merchant as soon as they’d answer.

“…last I saw,” a woman was telling him when Riju finally caught up. “And Telyn swears she saw that Imperial guy leaving alone.”

“I _know_ I did.” The woman’s friend jumped in. “The young Lord got away, he slipped out before they could catch him. By the time that scary guy left, he was _long_ gone.” She made a sweeping gesture for emphasis.

“He got away?” The man in purple’s hood slipped back a little as he slumped in relief—or, boy, rather, Riju realized, getting a closer look at him. It revealed dark hair and green eyes, with a dusting of freckles marred by a series of deep scars scoring up from his jaw, just visible over the top of his blue scarf.

Riju thought this seemed as good a chance as any. “Do you have any idea where he might have—?”

One of the villagers pushed out from the door behind them, snagging a broom on her way out, then froze and dropped it with a loud clatter. Riju tugged up her scarf on instinct, concerned that somehow the reaction had to do with her, but she didn’t need to worry. The woman was staring, pale with round eyes, at the boy in purple.

A little, round white bird with blue wings escaped his hood, chirping and oblivious to the tension.

“…Master Ravio?” Her voice was hushed.

“Ye—uh—haha.” The boy laughed nervously. “Hi, long time no see.” He tugged on his hood and cringed. The bird settled on his shoulder to peck at his scarf.

Riju glanced between them, wondering what in all the lands she’d stumbled into the middle of.

“Long time…” the woman looked like she was going to faint. “Sire, we…we heard that you were _dead.”_

“That _what?!”_ The boy—Ravio—forgot his secrecy and yelped, startling the bird into flight.

“We were told you’d died a hero’s death in Lorule, we…your brother mourned you. We all did.”

Ravio gaped at the village with new eyes, gawking around as if searching for signs of her words. “Why would—all this time, he’s been thinking I—” He tugged on his ears. He thanked the woman, who watched him go in a daze, and left muttering to himself under his breath, bird happily following in his wake.

He nearly crashed into Riju, which was why she was close enough to hear him cursing himself for a thrice-condemned coward and still wondering over what had happened.

“Your brother,” she realized. “Is he Legend?”

Ravio stopped in his tracks. “Why?” He turned to ask, suspicion heavy on his words. Again, he tugged at the hood—uselessly, as she’d seen his face and the woman he’d spoken to was already heading for her neighbors. “Who’s asking?”

Riju eyed him over shrewdly, contemplating how much of the truth to let on. He seemed honestly concerned for Legend’s safety; there was a good chance he wouldn’t be in a hurry to betray any of his secret dealings, whatever his thoughts might be about them.

She settled on telling him, “A representative of a certain group he’s been trying to get in contact with.”

He frowned and lowered his voice. Around them, the street still bustled, but no one passed close enough to hear their hushed conversation. They pressed subtly farther into the shade of a copse of trees, off the road and out of the way of the main thoroughfare. “A group like a…secret…group…?” Realization clicked. “Like rebels.” He didn’t sound surprised. “He found a group of rebels.”

“Perhaps.” She leaned against a tree, crossing her arms with guarded caution.

“But by the time you got back to him,” Ravio put together, “he was already gone.”

This seemed like as good of a source as she was going to get. “That’s what I’d like to know more about. He _is_ your brother, isn’t he?”

The bird settled on Ravio’s sleeve and nuzzled into his fingers, prompting him to scratch through its feathers. His eyes were shadowed. “Yes. Older by three years—him, I mean, he’s—yes.”

“Then would you know where he’s going?”

Ravio shook his head. “He’s traveled—he’s traveled pretty far before; it could be anywhere.” His voice broke a little and he said, more to himself than to her, “I don’t know where to find him.”

His hands stilled as he seemed to come to a decision. “This…rebel group,” he said, looking up. “Can you tell me more about it?”

* * *

Straying out into Castle Town too often or too long was dangerous; Malon wouldn’t be risking it if it wasn’t important. She took pride in the way she’d managed to assert herself into the daily happenings of the castle, falling into a false routine so quickly that no one had ever questioned it. Where her skill with names and faces had been fairly useful for most of her life, now it ensured her survival. Guards could hardly find her suspicious when she knew their names and asked after their nieces and nephews.

It was how she got away with slipping away bits and pieces here and there for the girls—so what if she had a little extra food here, a bolt of fabric there? Surely, they’d think, someone with so much confidence must just be running errands. And if, say, just for example, she were to be carrying around some spare training swords or daggers from that new weaponsmith…she was just doing the poor boy a favor, of course, and what did it matter, really, where she was headed with them?

The danger was worth it a hundred times over, to her. Maybe it was her personal connection to the chosen heroes, or her brief childhood friendship with the fallen princess. Maybe it was just the irrepressible instinct of a mother. Whatever the case, the princesses had quickly lodged themselves in her heart as _her_ girls, just as much as her own boy. As much as that child who had come knocking at their door drenched in the rain in the middle of the night, saying he’d followed a dream. She was tied into the destiny of these heroes and princesses, both by the marriage she grieved and the son she loved. If some were family to her by blood, she could hardly help but think that way of them all.

And if it took a risky trip to the tavern at the edge of town to buy them a spark of happiness, charming her way into a precious vial of cinnamon that sat wrapped securely in the pocket of her skirts, then it was a measure she was willing to take.

As she ducked into the soot-stained bustle of the streets, though, weaving an inconspicuous path back toward the servants’ entrance of the castle, her attention was caught by something out of place. A strain of music drifted over the rumble of clattering wagons and low muttering. It was rare to get someone busking for money this close to the castle; Malon hadn’t ever seen anyone try it. The source of the singing must be someone either very ambitious or very desperate indeed.

She only caught snatches, but the music knifed through her heart. The words might almost fit a love song if it wasn’t sung so deeply, sharply mournful; it made a soft, longing ode to the memory of someone in better days. That feeling was an old friend to Malon. It made her sad to know that a person with such a young voice could sing about it.

Against her better judgement, she went to seek the voice out.

The girl on the corner had soot staining her cloak and the bag she left out to collect rupees—which was hardly noteworthy, here. That would happen within a day or two. Malon couldn’t tell her age exactly, only that her weariness made her look older. Her eyes were glazed over and Malon had to wonder how long she’d been standing there, singing, since she stopped for a rest.

“Hey, there, darlin’,” Malon said, digging out a loaf and an apple from her bag, “mind some company?”

The girl was slow to follow her meaning, but she connected the dots when Malon ripped her loaf of bread in half and offered some.

“Oh.” Some of the exhaustion lifted and she brightened. “Oh! Thank you.” She gladly joined Malon in sliding down to sit with their backs to a shop’s wall, out of the main foot traffic. She wasn’t shy about tearing into the food with gusto, but waited until she swallowed her bite before saying “You’re very kind. Most people here are pretending they don’t see me at all.” She rubbed at her feet.

“Must be busy,” Malon reasoned. “Hard to ignore a voice like yours. It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she repeated, again. Though her eyes were heavy, her smile was real. “Do you live here?”

“Eh,” Malon wavered a hand. She’d rather not claim this sad place, personally. “For the moment. Workin’ up that a-ways.” She pointed with her own half of the bread toward the castle.

“Really?” The girl craned her neck back against the stone. There was fear in the heaviness of her brows, distaste in how she eyed the looming towers, but it couldn’t quite smother a lingering spark of curiosity. “What’s it like?”

Malon hummed and tried to think of how to describe it. “It’s…oppressive, a lot of the time. Kind of a nerve-wracking job; folks are scared of slippin’ up on anything. But you meet some interesting people. Some from real far away, most of ‘em who never intended to end up here. Why,” she chuckled, asking, “thinking about looking for work?”

“No,” the girl said immediately. “I’ll sleep out here the rest of my life before I go anywhere near that place. All I really wanted was to see it; now that I have, I’ve had more than enough of it.” Her attention was drawn back to Malon, though. “What about you? Did you intend to end up here?”

Malon’s lip quirked up in a wry smile. “Not even a little bit.”

The girl hummed in sympathy and returned to her bread. “What kind of people—sorry,” she broke off. She hid behind her hair with a self-conscious wince. “I don’t mean to annoy you by asking so many questions.”

Now _that_ , Malon wouldn’t let slide. “Baby,” she said firmly, “your conversation is a delight to have and you couldn’t annoy me if you tried. If you ask me questions from now ‘till the sun goes down, I’ll consider it a day well spent.” And she meant it, too. It was wrong for a young person to feel bad about asking questions.

“Oh.” The girl went quiet. There was a long, long pause where she hardly breathed at all, and when she did it came out as a wet sniff. “Sorry.” She swiped at her nose. “I—sorry, this is—” Though she made a valiant, embarrassed, shrinking effort, she could do nothing to stem the tears starting to well up from her eyes.

“You have nothin’ to apologize for. Can I give you a hug?”

She nodded, then crumpled into the arm Malon wrapped around her. Malon rubbed slow circles on her arm, giving her time to knead her face with the heels of her hands and try to steady her breathing. Legs and wagon wheels passed all around them, the crowd unheeding of the two lone forms pressed together at their feet. “It’s just—it’s been a while—I haven’t talked to anyone—very much—sorry. I’m sorry."

Malon’s heart panged and she kept up the slow, easy circles. She made her voice calm and warm. “Well, we’ll have to fix that, huh? What were you gonna ask me just now?”

“About…” her voice came out thick and she took a long, slow breath. “…um, you said you meet a lot of interesting people. From different places.”

“I have indeed.” She dug around in her memory and came up with a good one, a sneaking grin threatening to cut into her words. “You know, there’s a man who works in the kitchens here who swears up and down he’s a quarter Zora blood?”

The girl was drawn out of a shuddering hiccup and into a surprised snort. She coughed, and it turned into a wet laugh. “I. What? How?”

“That’s a question I’m comfortable not botherin’ with the answer to,” Malon replied dryly, and the girl descended into another fit of snorting giggles.

She pushed back up into a sitting position. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

Malon gave a big, theatrical shrug to further illustrate her lack of desire to examine that issue. “I don’t think I’ve seen him sweat. And his teeth do seem a little sharper than usual. Maybe.”

While the girl squinted at this information, Malon decided to move on. “And, of course, I do see the princesses fairly often.” ‘Fairly often’ was a bit of an understatement, but she didn’t have to know that.

“The…princesses…?” The girl tilted her head. “Of…?”

“The. Y’know. The princesses.” Malon was shocked to find only confusion on the girl’s face. Who traveled these roads, even passing into the shadow of the castle itself without knowing this story?

“The princesses?” Malon tried again. “That…” She lowered her voice. “You know, there’s…a prophecy…about the nine…” she lowered it again when the girl watched blankly, casting a glance over her shoulder. “A prophecy about nine heroes and princesses gettin’ chosen by the Goddess, like in the old stories about the Hero Link and the Princess Zelda. And that one day they’re gonna throw the ol’ pig out of here.” She nodded at the castle. She hadn’t thought to ask, but this girl had to be from somewhere out of the country. It had to be somewhere far, not to know about that.

Some part of it must be familiar, though. As Malon went on, the girl’s eyes went round and she glanced from the castle back to her. “They’re a part of that prophecy? And they’re here?”

“Some of the girls, at least.”

The girl twisted the ends of her hood between her fingers. As she chewed on this information her mind seemed far away, her hair drifting into her face without her taking much notice. What meaning it had to her, Malon couldn’t guess. But whatever it was seemed important.

“So the Emperor already knows,” the girl concluded. A heavy sadness weighed on her. “And he’s already making sure it can’t happen. It can’t come true.”

Malon bristled, defensive on the girls’ behalf—and her boy, too. They weren’t gonna be stopped by a few measly walls, she knew them better than that. “I wouldn’t write them off so quickly. They’re still here, they’re still alive. They’re strong kids. And they ain’t givin’ up yet, not by a long shot. So don’t you give up on them either.”

The longer she went on, the more the girl curled into her hood. “But they’re not.” Her voice was flat, cracked. Brittle.

Malon felt her face scrunch up. She’d lost the thread of this conversation. “What do you mean? Not what?”

She wouldn’t look at Malon. The next word came out barely above a whisper. “All alive.”

Malon’s world stuttered. “What?” She asked faintly.

“That prophecy can’t come true.” The girl pulled her hood tighter around her face, her emotion clear in the strength of her grip. “Because one of the heroes is dead. What are we supposed to do then? What happens when the Emperor gets to them first?”

The first thought that fell into Malon’s mind was her husband. How could it not be? Time was always on her mind in some quiet way or another; in the way she saw the trees and the songs stuck in her head and mannerisms she’d picked up from him even when his deeds and his story followed her in the mouths of strangers. And the alternative, the only other thing this girl could mean when she said that, was too horrible to contemplate.

“It means new heroes,” Malon tried to explain, “after the old hero and princess fell—”

But the girl was shaking her head, hard, and Malon’s stomach was icing over.

“That’s what I mean,” the girl said. And maybe Malon just had an effect on people that made them want to confide things in her, or maybe this girl was just desperate enough for someone, _anyone_ to listen. The story tumbled out of her in a flood.

“I knew him—he—Link. A boy named Link. We were—he was helping defend my home. The Emperor’s men wanted my island, a ship or something of theirs was coming by, and—something about it making a good trade port, I don’t know—I never even knew about any of the prophecy or the empire really at first or anything, he was just someone from the outside. And we never really met people from the mainland much, and he—we—I’d always wanted to know what it was like. And he was so kind, and patient, and we’d talk for hours and we started to—and he loved the island, and so when the Emperor’s men came he tried to help us and—but they—”

“Breathe, girl,” Malon managed to get out when she found the presence of mind. She rubbed the girl’s shoulders, trying to coax her to take in air. Her mind spiraled, barely taking in what she was hearing.

The girl did, in choking gasps, still trying to push through to the end of her story. “But it’s _gone_. And he _died_. My home is gone and they killed him, and they took it, and I barely ev-en—escaped, they captured some—of us, but I got away, and I don’t know where the others are, and—he’s dead.” She bit the words out with force, putting all her grief and rage and sorrow and pain into firing them like arrows. Into giving voice to the awful truth. “And I loved him. I loved him, and he was my fiancé, and we were going to be married this past winter and he’s dead.”

“So what use is that prophecy now?” She turned to Malon, demanding, desperate. “What are we supposed to do?”

And this, Malon was realizing, was a different question altogether from what she’d thought it was. And at the same time, one so much more the same than she ever could have prepared for. This wasn’t the whispers in the street, the neighbors who looked to her as if she’d have some kind of answers, the nation left shocked and breathless when their hero and princess failed and asked each other _what are we supposed to do._ It was funny, the ways the goddesses chose to re-assert that they hadn’t yet abandoned the craft of destiny—because what were the odds that she’d walk out here so many years after the tragedy that wrought her life in two and find herself?

This was _what are we supposed to do_ when I planned to give my life to this man, and him to me, and now I have to go on like it never happened and _what are we supposed to do_ when I have two of all my cups and dishes and a bed that’s too large for me alone and _what are we supposed to do_ when the world was supposed to be a safe and bright new place for our children and now my son has to unlearn his own name in secret. It was a question she’d never wanted to face and one that had threatened to swallow her whole; but it was one she’d been forced to look in the eye and wrestle down, because she had a boy depending on her and he didn’t have time to wait around for her to work it out.

“If they can’t do it…” Malon said, holding the girl’s gaze, “it’s left to those of us who are still here. All we can do is what we’re able.”

She searched Malon’s face. “You seem like you’ve thought about it before. Did you know? Did you have some idea about it not coming true?”

At that, Malon had to laugh a little, though it stung in her chest bitterly. “Darlin’, trust me when I say I’ve seen fate go wrong in a lot of ways in my time. And trust me when I can tell you, it ain’t over ‘till it’s over. I meant what I said. Don’t be so quick to write the others off; I think they might surprise us yet.”

The girl’s silence told Malon she was pondering her words, turning them over, picking them through. “What we’re able, huh?” A change was stealing over her as she ran her tanned fingers through her auburn hair. It was in the ghost of a twitch at the corner of her mouth, a hard light that was coming into her eyes. “You know, I might could like the sound of that.”

An idea occurred to her. “Do you see the princesses a lot?” She asked Malon. “Do you think I could…I mean, is there anything…?” She squared her shoulders. “I want to help. If there’s anything you know of about them, anything they need, tell me what I can do.”

“Girl,” Malon couldn’t help but smile, “you’ve found the right place. If you can find a way to settle yourself out here and keep an open eye and ear, I think we might just be seeing a lot of each other. I’ll have to be careful—” she got moving, aware again of the time, “and I can’t be out here, much. I’m already pushing it. But next time I am, I’ll be looking for you. Who should I be asking after?”

“Marin,” the girl said, clasping her hands. “I’m Marin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i said "fake character death" and "some characters not tagged for the surprise reveal".......... :)
> 
> The biggest shoutout to Turtleduckcrossing for guessing right about Marin! When I saw that in your comment I just about died lol I CANNOT believe you called that
> 
> Thus concludes the chain of daily updates! It's been a really fun and wild ride, and I want to give a huge enormous shoutout to those of y'all that have been commenting, dropping kudos, or reacting on discord along the way. Even the littlest things show me that people are out here reading and make all the difference. <3 
> 
> Up next: Four gets an offer.


	17. Hope is the thing with feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four gets an offer.

“Hey, Four…can I ask you something?” Dot spoke up, knocking her fists together lightly.

Four had wondered how long it would be before she asked. He couldn’t find a good way to broach the subject, so he’d waited, knowing she’d notice what was off before very long.

He let out a gust of air through pursed lips and stepped away from his fire. “Is it ‘why are there so many of these?’” He guessed. He swept an arm out to the cannon shell molds she had carefully lined up to cool. Already, she had a stack of empty ones waiting—she’d gotten faster. It had been rough going initially, since she’d been easily tired without much practice doing physical labor, but these days she was hefting around large metal scraps with no trouble at all.

“How…many of these are we making? I sort of thought…by now we might be…” she stopped and backtracked, putting up her hands. “It’s no trouble. There’s just…a lot.”

Four bared his teeth in a wry grin and huffed a tense laugh. “A…I’ll tell you; a lot more. Than anticipated.”

At her confused look, he stoked the fire to step away. With a careful scoot from his elbow, he nudged aside the molds on the table just enough to make room for himself; he hopped up and gave his aching feet a rest. As the tension unspooled from his limbs, he folded over to lean his elbows on his legs. “When I first came to the castle, I had maybe eight or ten Minish come with me from Castle Town. There are more there—enough for a town of their own, if things are still how I left them. When I was making this plan, I was thinking of how I could get all of them out.”

He gave her a wry sidelong look, blowing some hair out of his face. “What I didn’t realize is that were plenty of Minish here within the castle walls already.”

“Really?” Dot ran her fingers through the flyaways coming out of her ponytail, pulling the ribbon out to fix it. Four had been around her long enough now to begin realizing this was a nervous habit of hers. “I’ve never seen them. They must be excellent at hiding.”

“They have to be.” Four couldn’t keep the grim note out of his voice. He didn’t have to explain why—Dot could paint herself a picture well enough. “They certainly didn’t want much to do with me. I still haven’t seen them very often, but they will speak to my Minish friends. And from what they’ve said…any one of them would be willing to take their chances at a way out too. Even if it does come from a Hylian.”

Dot made a sad noise and scanned the crates of false cannon shells they were beginning to build up. There were enough now to occupy a corner of the room. “There must be so many.”

“It’s a big castle. Trust me, Dot. This is only the beginning. There’s been generations born here since the Royal Family was driven out, and hardly any able to leave. There’s probably a city’s worth by now—maybe more. And spread out, some with little or no contact with the others. Even just the process of reaching them all—”

He broke off, frustrated. This task was enormously out of his depth. But any time he tried to think of drawing a line somewhere, of how to decide which suffering people should be abandoned as if their distance made them not worth his time, it turned his stomach.

“Well,” said Dot, breaking into his spiral. She knocked a gentle elbow against his knee. “Remember that you have help, now. That’s one thing. We’re rearing for a mission—some more than others—” she gave a teasing aside to someone on her mind in particular, “and the sneakier the better. And before you say it,” she raised a finger and cut him off, “I know the Minish can’t and probably won’t talk to us. But we’d be happy to transport some of your friends, if they need a safe way to get around.”

He gave her a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. It’s going to take a long time.”

She lolled back her head. “We certainly don’t have anywhere to be.”

A Minish came scrambling in from the crack in the wall near Four’s tools, waving their arms wildly. Four’s heart flashed hot in his chest. “Someone’s coming! Dot, go!” He pushed her away from the table.

“Okay—I’ll—” She paused and remembered to stoop for the Minish messenger. “Right. Show me which way to go.”

Four watched them slip out with bated breath, sending a prayer for safety up to anyone that might still be listening. He landed on the floor and fretted over the still-cooling shells. No time to put them away. He’d have to hope his lie about getting sent a commission to make them continued to hold.

His mind was clamping down on him, rooting him in place with the fear that Vaati was around the corner—it hadn’t taken the general long to take up his old habit of making Four’s life as difficult as possible. It was…not a relief, per say, for Four to find that his expectation was wrong this time, but it did settle some tiny degree of panic in the back of his mind.

The Oni was…reliable, in a word. He came to the forge only for a set purpose, took what he needed, and left without speaking. Occasionally, Four worried at the way the Champion’s attention seemed to linger on him, like there was something about Four that he found perplexing in some way. But the man was neutral, a known entity. For the reputation he had, there was never any maliciousness about him.

Although Four didn’t know why he’d be here today. There was no new commission of any kind for him to retrieve.

He was limping. That was the first thing Four noticed, because the Emperor’s Champion didn’t limp. Today, though, he favored his right leg slightly. There was a cut scabbing over by one cheekbone, and something dark staining the clothes under his armor—on his armor too.

It was blood. Four gave a dry swallow. Either his or—or someone else’s.

Something about him was noticeably _off_. It was setting off Four’s fight or flight instincts, because new and different meant dangerous and unknown, and he tried his best to find it, quantify it.

The Oni’s weight shifted. His fingers drummed against one leg, his gaze off to one side. His brows furrowed together, mouth pulled thin.

His fingers were drumming. He almost…

The Oni was _restless_.

He was also noticing Four’s attention, and Four immediately snapped it to the floor, mind racing.

“This sword. The workmanship is incredible.”

Four failed to stop a tiny, sharp inhale. If the man were to ever speak, Four would expect it to be in a flat way much the same as everything else he did. Or, if anything, that he’d growl or drip his words with menace. The Champion’s voice was rough, atrophied, quiet. Like someone who had been sick or breathed in smoke for too long. Four could almost imagine a distant echo of something warm beneath his tone.

Whatever it was left in the man’s next words, leaving them hollow. “And…you’re to follow me. You’ve been summoned for an audience with the Emperor.”

Four blanked. He found himself nodding as he drifted, too deep in a sweep of terror to feel his own body. He followed in the Oni’s wake, at the same time barely cognizant of the world around him and burningly aware of the eyes of everyone they passed. He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed not to meet Dot on the way. He was glad for her to avoid notice, even if he’d rather not be so alone.

He’d abruptly been shoved into a surreal dream world. Soldiers were real, Vaati was real, even the Oni was real. They were flesh and blood, for all their power still bound to the machinations of the Empire in their own ways. Even the Heroes and Princesses were beginning to feel real; Four was getting to know Dot well, and to learn of the quirks and talents and weaknesses of the other Princesses through her. In the rare moments he’d gotten to spend with Malon, she’d passed on whispers of the Heroes through the lens of a mother speaking of her own son.

The Emperor was a specter, a figment. He wasn’t someone to be met and seen face to face.

They wound up and up and up and up, through flights of stairs to a part of the castle he’d never caught a glimpse of before. All Four had seen to this point was still the common people’s part of the castle; rough stones and narrow walkways had seen the rise and fall of eras and remained humble, unchanging.

He was almost blinded when they reached the castle’s upper levels. He rammed his eyes shut and squinted just enough to find his way.

Four couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen so much sun. Castle Town sat beneath a blanket of soot-smoke through which gray light seeped in clouds, flickering in the hot flash of forge-fires and candles. His home now had even less light; just his own fire and his precious kerosene lantern.

Here, high windows soared above the smog below and poured down golden shafts, leaving rectangles on the marble floor. It burned behind his eyes, throwing the ash on his clothes, skin, and hair into sharp relief, standing out against the mirror-clean tiles. He found himself thankful, though, when he saw the effect it had on the people he found here. People with silk robes and harsh eyes glazed right over him, leaving him to pass beneath their notice in peace, if through a bit of disgust. They carried the symbol of Ganon’s servants—the inverted eye—combining with their fine clothes to mark them as warlords or other high officials. Four was glad to avoid them.

They crossed into a long walkway laid with a plush, red strip of carpet. As Four peered at the rows of steadfast armor interspersed with guards, he found it within himself to wonder at how untouched it looked. The iron and glass on the windows were perfect. Thick tapestries hung from the ceiling bearing the crest of the Gerudo and intricately patterned at their edges, not a stitch out of place. In a castle almost as old as the kingdom itself, everything here was new. How deep must the destruction here have gone, for even the tiles to be replaced with ones that were bordered in the foreign script of the desert?

The whole train of thought was a distraction. He had a suspicion of where the next pair of doors led.

The guards at the doors nodded for them to enter, moving behind to escort them.

The throne room was huge, lavish, and silent. Where sunbeams cut hazy lines overhead, filling the cavernous dome above, braziers crackled against the white columns below and left flickering orange pools on the floor. Stained glass dyed Four and the Oni in a hundred colors, their designs too intricate and far away to make out.

Once their footsteps halted, the only sound that remained was a distant, mournful wind outside.

The Emperor himself wasn’t unlike his throne room.

His presence had the hard, quiet power of a mountain; the rich gold and black silks he was arrayed in did nothing to hide the definition of battle-worn muscle, nor did the ceremonial blue armor donned on top. Old, faded scars were wrought deeply into his skin, disappearing into his red beard and long hair. To Four, it was surprising to find. He hadn’t thought of the Emperor as someone who could fight and be wounded.

Once Four had drawn close, cold realization dripped down his spine. The Emperor’s eyes were on him, and he looked intrigued.

The Oni knelt. Four was quick to follow, glad for any reason in the world to avoid those eyes.

(Still, the Oni’s fingers tapped.)

“Champion.” The Emperor’s voice rumbled. Four was overcome by the instinct to glance up again. Ganon’s hand was at his side; something round and flat was hanging from his belt. “Give your report.”

The Oni rattled off a bare series of events. He told how he had sought out a young lord, one of the House of the Rabbit, and attacked. He’d pursued the young lord and been engaged in combat, with companions coming to his target’s aid. After overwhelming the Oni, the young lord and his companions had escaped into the surrounding forest.

Suffocating silence descended. Four knew nothing about what the Oni spoke of, but it was clearly some failure on his part. He couldn’t imagine that could end well.

“You’re shaken.” It wasn’t a question. “Tell me about the young Hero and his companions.”

Something prickled within Four. A Hero. The Oni was hunting a Hero.

“He is likely of age, but barely, though he’s skilled in combat. The way he fights speaks of long experience. And his companions…there are…three, I believe. All close.”

Again, the Emperor left a long, empty pause after the Oni finished speaking.

“There are things you aren’t telling me.” His proclamation was a doom knell. Once more, Four’s attention was drawn by pure wariness. He looked to Ganon.

Again, Ganon’s hand was at his belt. His fingers shifted and Four was able to make out a wooden face—a mask. It was the exact image of the Oni, save for one detail. In the center of its forehead, between the blue lines, a round, orange gem was fixed with gleaming metal prongs.

The Oni’s fingers stopped tapping.

He locked up at Four’s side. His jaw ground, and his muscles went tense and twitching. He lurched before righting himself, and Four felt—something. He looked like he was in pain.

“I didn’t see all of them,” the Oni gasped like the words were being drawn from his mouth. “Only one up close, and another at a distance. I didn’t see the third one at all. He w—they called h—” The Oni choked on his own words. Then he shifted. “I…recognized one of them. I think I know him. He was covered in scars, and he seemed to recognize me too. I felt—I felt like I—” he petered off.

Ganon shifted and made a ruminating noise. “This is noteworthy information. For the time being, this task will be relegated to the Imperial Army.”The Oni had no response. The only sound he made was his harsh breathing.

“Do not force me to remind you again. You are the Champion, and only the Champion. You do not recognize, you do not feel, you do not remember; those things were forfeited by your failure. You have only purpose.”  
  
The Oni’s white eyes flared. His voice was steady, his fingers still. “I have only purpose,” he intoned, and bowed his head.

Ganon rose from his seat. A long, dark cape fell out behind his back, his golden, sunlike crown glinting its geometric flames in the light of the braziers. “Now; I’d like to see this sword I’ve heard so much about.”

For a long moment, Four’s lungs refused to take in air.

Obediently, the Oni drew his commissioned blade and presented it. Ganon took the hilt in one great hand, turning it over and examining the details of its filigree, testing its weight.

“This is fine work,” he said to Four. “I know a quality blade when I see one.” Where earlier hearing praise had made Four surprised, almost proud, now he only felt sick. This blade was being turned against a chosen Hero; his work was literally in the hands of Ganon, and it was being used to draw innocent blood.

The Emperor was amiable, his demeanor at odds with the despair surging within Four. “A young man like you could have a bright future with craftsmanship like this, and I’d be a fool not to notice. Now that I meet you, I must say, you only intrigue me more. I’d like to make you an offer.”

He returned to his dais, handing the blade back to the Oni. Four had little time to grapple with this sharp turn in the conversation. An offer? What would the Emperor ask of him?

“Since you entered this room, little forge, I haven’t been able to sense your presence.” He turned. “Consider me impressed. Whoever it is that works this magic must be powerful indeed. I believe I’m…likely not wrong in wondering if it might be connected to that strange earring you wear?”

Four’s hand rose to brush the earring in question. “I…it’s…” The feather earring he’d been given by the Minish some time ago. He remembered, now, that they’d told him there was some kind of protection magic to it. But for it to be powerful enough to hide him from the Emperor himself…

His fear silenced him. He couldn’t give an explanation without exposing his friends. 

“Don’t be alarmed.” Ganon put up a hand, placating. “It’s no secret to me. General Vaati has been going on for years about little people within the castle walls that are invisible to the eye; what connection he has to them, he won’t say, but he’s lately been making an annoyance of himself complaining about the Hylian boy he suspects of helping them.”

Again, the Emperor took on that calculating look that pinned Four down. “I’ll admit, I’d…mostly taken them for the ravings of someone whose skill with magic was addling his mind. Now, though, I’m seeing that it was a mistake. Clearly, there is spellcraft at work here even I don’t know of. That’s something rare, indeed.”

Four didn’t know what to do. There was no way he could deny it. Even inadvertently he’d…he didn’t know, he _couldn’t_ have known, but just by walking into this room, already, he’d betrayed his friends. Distantly, some part of his mind protested—he’d very likely have been doomed without the protection of the Minish; he didn’t know for certain that the magic splitting his soul in four could be detected, but it was a strong possibility. And there were other—

He carefully cut that line of thought off. He suspected something else that might be hidden, something more dangerous for the Emperor to see within him, but nothing he was certain of.

But the fact remained that now, for better or for worse, the secrecy of the Minish was compromised.

“So—” Four bit down the tremble in his voice. “What…would you propose?”

A note of amusement colored the Emperor’s tone. “Nothing terrible, I assure you. Little creatures that pass invisible to the eye, skillful in magic and great in numbers? These Minish sound like powerful allies. What I would like from them is their friendship.”

Four’s stomach gave a heavy flop, hot and cold all at once. His mind reeled as he locked his eyes to one side of the throne, tamping down all expression on his face.

“If some kind of arrangement could be reached, I’d gladly extend my protection to them. I realize now that Vaati’s little…campaign…must have a true target. I would assure that he’d be stopped immediately; and, of course,” he added with a gesture to Four, “that the same would extend to you.”

There was…a chance. A _slim_ chance that he could convince a few, for the sake of the safety of the community; the Minish looked out for their own, and he knew well that some would go to any lengths for their people. Ganon likely had no idea of their true numbers, so it would only take a handful to convince him they were swayed.

But Four couldn’t do it. They wouldn’t want to spy for Ganon, even if he asked. The Minish were good people, and they knew well of the cruelty of the Empire. He couldn’t ask them to abandon their commitment to peace, not if there was anything left within in his power to do to spare them of it.

Even if it cost his life.

And so, Four lifted his head, met Ganon’s gaze, and lied.

“I…need to think about it.” He put on a guise of indecision, his heart thundering. “It wouldn’t be easy to convince them. But…if you—if you could really give them your protection…” He hid the shaking in his hands by clasping them together and pretended not to be able to finish the thought.

“I’d be glad to,” Ganon reassured him. “I’ll give you some time to think it over. Champion,” again, he brushed the mask, “escort this young man back to his quarters.”

The Oni stood stiffly and strode away, leaving Four clambering to follow and their guards to tail behind.

As the doors drew close, though, one last thing sparked Four’s attention.

Hesitant, he risked a peek over his shoulder. He hadn’t noticed it before; there was a section of wall far above the Emperor’s throne cast half in shadow, hardly noteworthy next to the presence of the man himself. Something about it, though, almost seemed to touch his mind, feather-light.

A plaque made of dark wood and bronze hung there with a sword wrapped in chains. It was hard to make out, but its elegant blade gleamed dully, even beneath a roiling coat of red sealing magic. The hilt was a deep, midnight blue wrought in the shape of a bird’s wings, its grip wrapped in imitation of a delicate ribbon. It was beautiful.

The sight was sad in a way that sort of reminded Four of the Oni. He couldn’t help the feeling that neither of them wanted to be in this place any more than Four did, and it sparked his sympathy.

He hardly paid much more attention to the journey back to his forge than he did leaving it. The tall banners passed him by, sunlit window-shapes sliding over him without his notice. He tried sneaking a glance at the Oni, but the man seemed much the same as Four had ever seen him. The mysterious restlessness was gone, leaving him empty oncemore. 

Four missed the light as they passed back down to the lower levels of the castle, but it was outweighed by the relief he felt in every step he put between himself and the throne room. He was drained and struggling to hold himself together so close to the relative safety of his room. He didn’t have any idea what he was going to do when he was summoned again for his answer to Ganon’s offer, and he just—he needed some time alone to _think_.

Vio was talking circles in his mind so fast that his words were running together, fighting to keep his rationality and push away from Red, denying his fear. It was irritating Blue, feeding dangerously into his anger at betraying the Minish and worrying Green, who just so badly wanted to know the right thing to do. They needed to talk.

Four let out a rough, bone-deep sigh that was half a laugh when he finally reached the warm embrace of his forge. The smell of sulphur and burning iron wrapped around him like a heavy blanket, settling him in his skin. He ran both hands through his hair in a semblance of self-comfort.

The Oni was turning, already leaving, but he paused.

Four stilled, slowly letting his hands fall.

The Oni opened his mouth, then closed it. The faintest flicker of something passed beneath the emptiness, there and gone. It was a ghost of that perplexed look Four had caught so often. After a moment, it settled into something.

“…how…old are you?”

That was…not a question Four was expecting. “Fourteen,” he answered, wondering where this was going.

“You…you’re like…” A finger twitched. Two. A tap. And for a moment, an instant, the Oni was utterly stricken.

Then he stilled, and it was gone. Smoothed over vacant and lifeless. “It was nothing. Never mind.”

Finally, Four was left on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we meet Ganon. I hope I did him justice
> 
> (as a side note, Four's a tad younger in this than I hc him to be in normal LU) (and Legend's a tad older)
> 
> kudos to anyone who can figure out what the orange gem is a reference to ;) it's kind of obscure
> 
> This is the last chapter I had stored up from this past semester, but trust me when I say that now that I'm on break I've been writing like a MADWOMAN so there'll probably be more before very long
> 
> Up next: Hyrule, Legend, Twilight, and Wild hit a few complications near the border of Lorule. Ravio makes some new friends.


	18. Of Miscommunications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyrule, Legend, Twilight, and Wild hit a few complications near the border of Lorule. Ravio makes some new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk I just made up Sera it sounded like a Zelda town name
> 
> Notes and a possible warning at the end (?)

A louder crack broke over the continuous, low roll of thunder, startling Legend into a flinch. He passed it off as a flick of his cloak, ignoring the others’ eyes.

It had been a long, long day, and he was tired. Skirting the edge of Thundra Plateau kept them from the worst of the eternal rainstorm that dogged it, but it didn’t do anything to make their trip less soggy. The temperature was gradually dropping too—it wasn’t noticeable at first, but the cold winds from Hebra cut into the muggy climate below with a vengeance, stirring up storms in its wake.

More frustrating than any of that, though, to Legend, was the annoying tension that wouldn’t leave him. He _hated_ being forced out in the open under a storm. The air tasted like copper, even from this distance, and they were far too exposed. The long hours they’d spent slogging across muddy ridges were twice as exhausting when his shoulders stayed tight and his mind was occupied watching for the stray spark that would be their moment’s warning before a lightning strike.

A sharp whistle dragged him out of his thoughts. Wild was beckoning up ahead, his long hair flying around him and throwing off water in every direction. He didn’t seem particularly bothered.

“I see lights!” He called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“What?” Legend jogged to Wild’s side, keeping a tight hold around his hood. Twilight and Hyrule flanked them, peering over the sharp drop at the edge of the ridge to see where Wild pointed.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Sure enough, a scattering of warm, yellow flickers spread below like fireflies in the rain. Legend could make out a few stark houses, their shingled roofs sharp against the round, weathered edges of the rocky valley around them. “We’re not supposed to see another town until Sera. Did we get turned around somewhere?”

“Ahaha,” Wild bared his teeth in a smug, teasing laugh, “are we _already_ lost?”

“No,” Legend defended immediately. Then, “Maybe.”

“Maybe we could _ask?”_ Twilight proposed with the air of someone speaking to children. “Come on, let’s get out of this weather before we all drown standing up.”

He threw a glance at Legend, there and gone. Legend didn’t know how to feel about it. He guessed he wasn’t hiding his nervousness of the storm very well, though nobody had asked him about it outright. On the one hand, a part of him wanted to be irritated—he’d seen more action than any of the rest of them, by all rights he should be the one pushing ahead and leading, not dragging the others down from behind.

It was just…nice, though. It was nice. To have people around who noticed and didn’t mind.

He followed behind Twilight and couldn’t dredge up much besides gratitude at not having to decide what to do.

“Hyrule?” Wild paused. They’d found a slope that led them down almost to the town’s main road, most of it still obscured by the heavy rain and falling night. Legend was glad Wild had spoken up—with all the rushing sound of the water and how unbelievably _quiet_ Hyrule could be, he might not have noticed their companion falling behind.

“Something wrong?” Twilight frowned. Slowly, wary of how Hyrule had reacted last time Legend tried it, he put a hand on Hyrule’s shoulder.

Thankfully, this time Hyrule didn’t pull a knife in response. His golden eyes were glazed over as he locked onto something in the direction of the town, throwing light against the insides of his hood and bouncing off a thousand raindrops that fell around him. “We need to find a windmill. I don’t know why, but it’s really important.”

“Might be better if we wait ‘till morning,” Twilight advised. “Right? Unless you think it’s about something urgent?”

Hyrule shrugged as the light guttered and faded. “Beats me. Hopefully not too urgent, ‘cause it’s _dark_ out here.”

It really was. Try as he might, Legend could hardly make out the second story of the nearest building, forget finding a windmill in this mess. “Any of this look like an inn to any of you?” He tried to speak up loud enough to be heard.

He just wanted to get under a roof somewhere. Everything felt wrong and ominous, and no matter how exhausted he got he couldn’t stop being on full alert, watching his back for the danger. The only town for miles was supposed to be Sera, but this couldn’t be it, surely. Sera was a bustling trader’s hub; it was settled in a prime spot with access to the main road into Lorule and had Rito Village within a day or two of travel. He’d been there more than once before and was barely ever able to get a full night’s sleep because of how loud it remained even late into the night, no matter what the weather.

If it wasn’t for the lights in the windows, this place could have been abandoned.

Something rumbled. Something that wasn’t thunder, that had a strange echo to it. An animalistic growl.

Legend knew that sound and he _moved,_ hauling the others behind a lean-to of soggy logs. He clapped a hand over Twilight’s mouth when he took a breath to say something, to whisper a question of some kind. Legend’s mind raced, his heart thundering. He knew that sound but why was it _here,_ it wasn’t supposed to be here.

His grip stayed buried in Hyrule’s sleeve and Hyrule put a hand over it questioningly, trying to crane his neck enough to get a peek at the road. Wild crinkled his nose and attempted to do the same.

 _‘We need to go,’_ Legend mouthed, jerking his head to help get the message across. Wild made an indignant gesture with both hands, opening them toward the town. Legend shook his head furiously.

Legend, Wild, and Hyrule all turned to look at Twilight, who looked back with wide eyes.

Twilight’s gaze slid back to Legend and he crouched obligingly to creep back up the way they came. Wild huffed but otherwise didn’t protest.

By the time they were perched halfway up the slope, still too close for Legend’s comfort but out of immediate range, the others took their chance to see just what it was they were avoiding, down there.

It was a humanoid creature with long, gangly limbs that prowled on all fours like an animal. A web of geometric lines crawled out from where its heart would be and glowed with a dim, red light. It gave off just enough to make out the lines of a flat, stonelike mask in the place of its face that was carved with a radiating design, thin, black tendrils trailing like hair that had a mind of its own.

“Is that a monster?” Wild leaned precariously over the edge, driving Twilight to grab the back of his sheath and hold him steady by the straps. “Surely we can take one monster between the four of us. I’m hungry! I want inn food!”

“Shh!” Legend hissed. “It is not _one monster,_ those things never come one at a time, and if _they’re_ here, that probably means that—”

“Who goes there?”

In tandem, Twilight yanked Wild and Legend grabbed Hyrule so they could all press their backs to the cliff face. A long, tense moment passed with no sound between them, only the howling wind and the pounding rain filling the air.

Legend thinned his lips and raised his eyebrows at Wild, who was annoyed but allowed Legend’s point.

The Imperial guardsman finally, finally moved along. Legend let out a long breath.

“What is it?” Twilight’s voice was low even as they cleared the edge of the ridge, far out of hearing range of anyone below. “I’ve never seen a monster like that before.”

“I haven’t seen many.” The thought of continuing out in the open made Legend want to lay face down in the mud, but he started trudging through the scraggly, wet grass anyway. Such was the story of his life. “It’s only been far away from here.” He threw out a tired hand in a vaguely southward direction. “Around the border, by Holodrum and Labrynna. Was a sorcerer who called herself ‘Veran’ that was commanding ‘em.”

Wild perked up. “You’ve been to Holodrum?”

“And Labrynna, yes.” Another time, Legend would have been much more enthusiastic to talk about it. “I’ve been a lot of places. The point is, that’s on the other side of the country. So why are they here?”

Silence stretched heavy between them. No one had any answers. A feeling of foreboding crept up on Legend, heavier than the paranoid nervousness brought on by the storm. The first few flecks of snow and ice began to mix in with the rain, making him draw his cloak tighter. They couldn’t get much higher without hitting heavy snow, and they weren’t prepared for that kind of journey. But they couldn’t go down, either, or risk the attention of the Imperials.

They’d have to keep walking into the night, but it wouldn’t be too much longer before they hit Lorule. Maybe, once they crossed the border, they’d find a better…

…the border of Lorule. They were right near the border. Spurred on by a terrible, sinking conclusion to the dread in his mind, Legend scrambled for a better viewpoint on the icy stacks above, ignoring the concerned shouts of the others. He clung with cold, heavy fingers to the hard roots of a tree by the edge and watched the Hebra mountains fall away, the highlands opening up in a dark blue haze before him.

He was numb. A thick cloud of dark, roiling amber sat over Lorule’s edge, ashes flying in its midst like black snow. Dark magic weighed down heavy everywhere he looked—dead trees reached their bare fingers up from brown grass, ash and sludge dotting the hills. Even the distant, glimmering water was dull and green, some dark residue gleaming on its surface like a bubbling oil slick.

The shadow beasts were here, on Lorule’s borders, because they were invading.

* * *

“It’s not always this wet,” Riju apologized. She and Ravio slogged up past their knees in murky water, practically swimming through the broad, soggy fronds that broke its surface.

“I’d hope not.” He noticed an end of his scarf trailing in the water and scowled, wringing it out. He unlooped the whole thing from his neck to stuff it haphazardly into his pack; the heat had been forcing him to shed a few layers, and by this point his purple hood was thrown back, his dark sleeves rolled up past sweaty elbows. “This can’t be much fun to live in.”

“Here.” Riju was relieved to find the first set of blocky ruins just ahead and dragged herself up out of the water, heaving her wet, heavy skirt behind her. She offered her hand and Ravio took it, following suit.

“It’s a pain, for sure,” she agreed. Ravio followed in her footsteps carefully as she leapt a gap on the stone dragon’s angular back, muddy floodwater foaming with debris beneath them. “But though it’s not much fun to live in, it _is_ great to hide in. There’s a reason this place stays abandoned, and when this is going on,” she gestured across the waterlogged forest, “no one seems to feel particularly moved to check.”

“Understandable,” Ravio said wryly. He squeezed a puddle out of the end of his cloak. Now that they were on solid ground, his bird seemed to feel more secure landing on his shoulder. Its feathers puffed out against the damp weather, turning it into a fluffy, white ball that clicked its displeasure.

“We can get out of the water soon,” Riju promised. “The camp is just up ahead.”

True to her word, they were able to skid their way up onto a grassy slope that rose above the water, finding purchase on hints of flagstones that poked through. It was slippery, muddy going, but together they trudged over the lip of the great, ancient colosseum and watched the rebels’ camp open up beneath them. Even with water swirling in its depths, lapping muddy lines up the sides, it was still bustling with color and life. The place was alive with people swarming like ants to move everything higher, staying ahead of the flood.

“There you go,” Riju swept a hand out.

Ravio whistled. His bird imitated him with a whistle of its own. “There’s so many.”

“Yes.” Riju began walking the worn pathway along the top ledge where they found themselves, waving for Ravio to follow her. “It can get a bit…tight, I’ll warn you, especially when things are flooding like this, but strength in numbers, right?”

“Yeah—are those Zora?” Ravio brightened, running to catch up. “And—Rito! Is this where they went?”

“Those that have heard we’re here, yes.” Riju found the top of the one remaining staircase that was somewhat intact, and they began to carefully pick their way down. She pointed out and named anyone she could see, hoping it would be at least somewhat helpful. In the meantime, though, she wondered what the best way was to find Urbosa, or maybe Lullaby. She needed to speak with someone about what had happened to her assignment and ask how to move forward.

“He’s—they’re what?” Ravio stopped beside her.

Riju pulled her attention back to the conversation at hand. She tried to reel her words back in her mind and remember what she’d just said. “Oh. Yes, sorry to just…gloss over that with no explanation. Sun and Sky down there are a princess and chosen hero, two of those from the prophecy. There are more, here—two more princesses. Lullaby herself is one.”

“Wow.” He watched them heft a fallen branch together with wide eyes. “D’you think—? Never mind. They’re busy.”

Riju couldn’t help a curl of fondness that arose when she heard him trying to hide his awe. There were few people left in the world by now who still held such wonder for the fairytale of the heroes and princesses of old, who still truly believed in it with so much hope. She’d spent a bit of time with Sun and Sky—Artemis and Lullaby, more. She knew them enough to know they lived up to their reputation, even when they themselves would say otherwise. She loved to see when people realized that.

“Come on.” She tugged his sleeve. “I’ll introduce you.”

“I wouldn’t want to bother them,” Ravio protested, still trailing in her wake. 

“Oh, please. They’ll be glad for an excuse to take a break.” Riju slid between a pair of large, weathered statues. As they drew closer, she caught a snatch of Sun and Sky’s conversation over the noise of the water splashing around at their feet. 

“—he gonna do?” Sky grunted as he hefted a barrel over his shoulder. “We’re surrounded by people and he’s chained up, there’s no danger. I just want to talk to him.”

Sun straightened up from scooping a branch into the pile in her arms, flipping it in lieu of holding out her hand. “Why? I just—I don’t think you’re going to get much out of—”

Riju cleared her throat, feeling somewhat awkward. She hoped she wasn’t interrupting an argument.

Sun broke off when she noticed their audience. Her exasperation melted away. “Oh. Hi, Riju! You’re back from…?” She ended it as a question.

“My recruiting trip.” Riju winced.

“So…” Sky hazarded, seeing her reaction. “Did things not go according to plan?”

“Well. I did bring someone back; just not the person I intended.” Riju checked over her shoulder to see Ravio floundering by the statues and firmly took hold of his shoulders, steering him in front of her. She gave him a reassuring pat.

“Ah. Yes. Well. Hello.” He waved. “Ravio! Traveling merchant extraordinaire and dealer of rare valuables, at your service!” He collected himself enough to give them an unnecessarily complicated, sweeping bow, throwing an arm out to one side.

“…Hi,” Sun said. She shared a side-eye with Sky, who looked as baffled as she was. She looked like she was about to make an attempt at a bow, then thought better of it. “I’m Sun, and this is Sky.”

“A pleasure to meet you!” Ravio sprung up. His little white bird swooped around their heads with a trill. “My associate, Sheerow, would like to extend the same sentiments.”

“Uh…same.” They watched Sheerow settle on Ravio’s shoulder, leaving a silence to stretch between them. Ravio tapped two fingers together, his attention wandering as neither Sun or Sky could seem to think of anything to say either.

“If you’re a hero,” Ravio blurted out of nowhere, “does that mean your name is Link? And is your name Zelda?”

“Yeah,” Sun said. She spotted a couple more branches and went back to fishing them out. “But it’s not really safe to say. And, well. I’m not the only one around here named Zelda, so that would get _very_ confusing very fast.”

“Huh,” Ravio said to himself. “Are there…any other heroes here? Do you know about the others?”

“Haven’t met any, yet.” Sky dropped his barrel carefully on the next level above the water, then stretched his back with an audible pop. “They have to be out there, somewhere, though. Hopefully we’ll meet them soon.”

“I could, um…” Ravio scratched the back of his head, “maybe help with that?”

Sun, Sky, and Riju all turned to stare.

* * *

The rain was letting up just enough for sunset to peek through.

The storm was still draped like a dark blanket over the horizon, heavy and frozen in its roiling. But overhead, the pale blue sky was deepening, and the amber light of the sun glowed at the dark mass’s edges, showing only in how it stained the scattered clouds above. It spilled out in huge, dusty beams that turned everything to a shade of washed-out gold. If Twilight hadn’t already seen the strange fog that sat in the distance, he could almost think it was only the light of falling dusk.

As it was, he watched Legend out of the corner of his eye and wondered what was on his friend’s mind.

Both their legs dangled over the edge of a cold, rocky shelf, one of Legend’s feet drawn up beside him as he hunched into his cloak against the cold. Twilight didn’t know whether now was really the best time to ask; Wild and Hyrule were crashing around behind them, every word echoing as they set up their temporary camp in a little cave. But Twilight didn’t like the closed-down look glazed over Legend’s face. The bandages there—now changed, thankfully, from the ones that got soaked in the storm—sat stark in a way that only strengthened the impression. He was lost somewhere in his own thoughts, and Twilight hated to let him spiral if he could help it.

“Y’know,” Twilight started. “There’s a friend of mine back home that likes to say there’s a strange sadness he feels when dusk falls. He always talks about the loneliness that pervades the hour of twilight.”

Legend turned, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

“’Course, I tend to take it kinda personally, because half the time he’s makin’ fun of my nickname. He keeps askin’ if I get the hint and I’ll go cure my loneliness by talkin’ to a girl.”

Surprised, Legend barked out a laugh and let his foot fall. “Are you that bad, back home?”

“No!” Twilight insisted. Wild was cackling behind them and Twilight shot him a withering look. “He means one girl in particular, not—”

Which he realized, belatedly, didn’t exactly dig him out of the hole he was making.

 _“Oh, really?”_ Wild wouldn’t abandon his wok over the open flames, but he did lounge out onto one elbow to get closer. He waggled his eyebrows.

“Never mind, I don’t wanna have this conversation anymore,” Twilight backtracked, to a chorus of ‘boo’s from Wild and Hyrule. Who he’d expected better from.

Legend’s smile slipped a little, sliding away faster than it normally would, and Twilight’s heart panged. He searched for something to say as they fell into silence broken only by Wild’s spoon scraping against the metal of his wok. The smell, at least, was comforting. Along the way, Wild had managed to stuff his pack full of scavenged fruits and mushrooms and the stew he was making with them now had a homey scent that seeped out and filled the air.

“I can’t believe I had no idea,” Legend spoke up, quiet. He couldn’t seem to tear himself away from watching the dark magic that spread out below, killing everything in its path. “I would at least think—it’s so bad. I would have come, if they’d sent a letter or—or _something._ If I had any idea how bad it was.” He sounded like he was mounting a defense, like he was being accused of something.

Twilight crept out on the opening Legend had given like it was a splintered branch, easing his way carefully. “You mentioned something about y’all not being on the best of terms. I figure that has something to do with it, right?”

“Yeah,” Legend said, sarcasm dripping, “that and how I literally told their queen I wanted nothing to do with them, I feel like that has a lot to do with it, too.”

“Hmm.” It sounded like a mess. What exactly were they about to walk into?

Apparently, Wild was wondering the same thing and feeling a lot less subtle about it. “Dang, what did she do?”

 _“Wild!”_ Twilight and Hyrule chastised. Wild sat back on his heels, unrepentant.

“None of your business?” Legend twisted to glare at him. “Why are you so nosy about every little thing?”

Wild shot back, “I think it is our business if we’re all on our way to hide out with this person, quit being so dodgy!”

“Wild, enough.” Twilight put a hand on Legend’s shoulder and Legend shrugged him off, standing up.

Wild didn’t stop. “Is this like how you being a chosen hero wasn’t our business? Because I think I’m getting kinda tired of you deciding whether I get to know things that directly affect my life when I already _don’t have a lot to go off of!”_ He was nearly shouting by the end.

“Sorry I don’t see how my personal business directly affects _your_ life—"

 _“Legend, Wild, quit!”_ Twilight planted himself between them, raising his voice until he had both of their attention. Both were watching him warily, and it was almost enough to make him doubt himself, to want to back down and apologize, but he managed to stand his ground. They needed to stop, and if he had to be the one to make them, so help him, he would.

“Listen to me.” He looked them both square in the eye, one after the other. “We can’t afford to fight amongst ourselves right now. I know you’re both smart, reasonable people, so you both know it. We have some real problems to settle,” he intercepted Wild’s attempt to interrupt him, “and nobody’s gettin’ off free or anything.”

His voice shook a little. “But right now, we are all each other has.” The admission lay stark and unavoidable between them, crouched and hidden in their tiny camp amidst the endless, open hills. “And whatever issues there are, we _have_ to be the ones to look out for each other. So we need to find a way to work with them.”

Wild focused all his attention on the stew, stirring and stirring. Legend directed his gaze out toward the horizon.

“Wild,” Twilight started, making an effort to soften his tone. “We can’t try to force Legend into talking about something he doesn’t want to share; that’s his choice to make.”

Wild said nothing, his expression and body language utterly stony and blank. Twilight’s heart clenched, but he kept going. “Legend. For what it’s worth, more or less, your personal business does affect all of us. Because!” He put up a finger, halting Legend in the process of angrily rallying a reply, “We care about you. You being a hero means our destinies are tied together in some way no matter what. But more than that, you’re our friend. So if you have a problem, we want to help.”

Legend’s mouth opened and closed without him finding his response. Thankfully, Twilight’s words seemed to have taken some of the harsher wind out of his sails, leaving him thinking.

“That being said,” Twilight finished. “We do need to know if there’s something going on that puts our safety at risk. Is this really a good place for us to go?”

Legend scuffed his foot against a clump of grass, taking his time to answer. “I think it is.” He was subdued from his earlier rant, only earnest in his response. “Meaning…I think Hilda—the queen—would be willing to help us. All this,” he gestured to the magic swirling below, “I don’t really know about, but I don’t—want to just leave them. I want to know what happened and if—if there’s some way I can help.”

He wrapped his arms around himself, avoiding all their eyes.

“I think that’s worth trying to figure out,” Twilight agreed. “Y’all good with that?” He asked Hyrule and Wild.

Hyrule put up his hands and looked like he’d rather be somewhere else. “I’ll do whatever you guys want to do.”

Wild was silent. He kept stirring the stew, cold and blank, without responding.

“Wild,” said Twilight. “I want to know what you think. It matters to me. Please.”

The stirring slowed a little. “…it’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Wild rose to go dig through his pack for more ingredients, ending the conversation. Twilight supposed he’d have to take it.

The rest of the evening, as the sun continued to fall, was long and stilted. Twilight and Hyrule tried to find anything to talk about that they could, but Hyrule was radiating nervousness and it made him inclined to silence. He kept throwing glances between Legend and Wild when he thought they weren’t looking.

At long last, Wild scraped out a portion of stew into each of their rough, wooden bowls and set them out, one by one. Twilight and Hyrule accepted theirs with thanks where they sat at the mouth of the cave, shielded from the worst of the wind. Legend was still sitting at the ledge, his back to the rest of them, and Wild hesitated when he got close.

“When…” Wild was uncharacteristically tentative, holding Legend’s portion of stew close to his chest. “…I told you about remembering Zelda, and you said that I—that it wasn’t true. Why would you say that, when you know it is?”

Legend blinked at him, apparently not expecting the question. “I really didn’t think it was true. All the, like, heroes and princesses and prophecy stuff. I…honestly _still_ don’t know if it’s true. If it wasn’t for Hyrule over here telling me he’s seeing magic triangles on my hand and clearly telling the future…” he petered off. “I just…haven’t really…seen any reason before to think someone _could_ do something about all this.”

Bit by bit, Wild perched down just out of arm’s reach. He placed the bowl of stew between them, settling to sit cross-legged and letting Legend take it.

“I hate being back here,” Legend said, apropos of nothing. “It’s making me—that’s an excuse. I’m—”

“Shut up, stop.” said Wild, startling him into silence. “Sorry. _I’m_ sorry. You should’ve told us about being a hero, but you don’t have to tell us anything else you don’t want to, Twilight’s right.”

Twilight felt something a little like relief and a little like pride begin to unfurl slowly within his chest. He’d been so scared they’d be at each other’s throats and there was nothing he could say that could stop them. He’d underestimated them, and he was glad to know it.

“What…I mean is…” Legend’s voice was rough and he picked at a loose pebble, prying it free. He took a long breath and let it out. “I had a brother. His name was Ravio.”

* * *

“Your brother’s a chosen hero?!” Riju sat back on the barrel Sky had pulled out of the water, incredulous. “And I missed him!”

“Yeah, you and me both.” Ravio patted her knee, commiserating. “Well. Sort of.” He wrung his hands together.

The dying day shone gold across the water at the dragon’s mouth, gilding a thousand puddles in the grass. Sky hefted himself up to slump on the soggy stone next to them and took off a boot, shaking out all the water pooling inside. “What’s he like?” Sun leaned against a statue, watching for Ravio’s answer.

“Legend? Angry.” Ravio huffed a chuckle, wry and soft. “My angry, short big brother. Looks just like me but blonde with a streak of pink, here.” He pinched a lock of his dark hair.

* * *

“He was younger than me, and he was a little punk. Always trying to sell either trash or my stuff.” The words were harsh, but Legend’s tone was unmistakably fond and sad.

* * *

“He does a lot of traveling. He’s sent back—I have some tea in here somewhere, all the way from Labrynna.” Ravio dug in his pack, raising an eyebrow. “Mind you,” he held up a finger, “I could be convinced to part with it, but it would have to be for a great sum of rupees! It’s valuable, and, you know, and even just from sheer sentiment—”

“We’ll pass,” Riju said flatly.

“If you’re sure,” Ravio heaved a put-upon sigh. Sheerow copied him, settling on his head. “To be honest, I…haven’t seen Legend face to face in quite some time.”

* * *

“I should never have left him.” Legend rolled the pebble between his hands. Twilight crept forward, waiting to see if Legend would stop him. When he did nothing, Twilight took back his spot nearby on the ledge, dangling his feet next to Legend’s. He could hear Hyrule following suit. “We…used to live with our uncle, and after he died, being at home without him was—bad. Especially with Ravio; we both missed him so much, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So, I left.”

He laughed scathingly and tossed his pebble. “Very heroic big brother that I am.”

The blue hills beneath them, tinted gold at the very tips of the trees, were beginning to grow gently darker as night crept in.

“I tried to send him letters,” Legend said. “Probably not as often as I should have. I tried to do better about that—later on.”

* * *

“Between you and me, though,” Ravio cupped a hand around his mouth, like he was sharing a secret. “It’s an act. Deep down, he’s very, very soft. Y’know he even met himself a lady while he was out gallivanting across the world?”

“Oh?” Sky was really intrigued now that he scented romance.

“Yep.” Ravio nodded. “Incredible woman; stole my letter he hadn’t answered in ages, wrote me every embarrassing thing he’d ever done around her, and promised to lecture him into writing me more often. Which he did. He has good taste.”

“Mmm,” Sun nodded, amusement playing at the corners of her mouth. “Sounds like someone I’d like to meet. Is she with him, now, do you think?”

Ravio’s smile fell. “Uh…no, I don’t. I think…something happened to her. He, uh,” he made a noise that was probably supposed to be a laugh, twisting at a strand of hair, “didn’t really tell me.”

* * *

“And then, well.” Legend cut off. “Traveling went. Bad. I just—I decided it was time to come home.”

Twilight heard multitudes in whatever he wouldn’t say, but Legend pushed on. “And I was sort of…in bad shape, and so it…took me a while to get there. And it was kind of hard to send anything while I was on the road, but it probably would have been a good idea for me to have tried, because by the time I got back, he had already left to come here.”

* * *

“He didn’t tell you?” Sky repeated, concerned.

“Ye—well, we just keep missing each other, you know.” Ravio hopped up to pace, Sheerow flitting behind him. “I decided to give traveling a try for myself, so I didn’t hear he was back ‘till after I was long gone. And that letter was—well—” His chipper tone cracked a little as he said, “a little bare on the details, so. Anyways.”

The more she learned, the more Riju wondered at the fact she’d gotten close to meeting Legend at all. It sounded like chance conspired against the both of them ever being in the right place at the right time.

“I was in Lorule, and—there was another one there!” Ravio turned and snapped his fingers. “Another princess. She goes by ‘Fable’ and she’s the sister of a good friend of mine. You know how it is; us siblings-of-the-chosen-ones gotta stick together.”

* * *

“He just left without saying anything?” Hyrule asked.

“Honestly? I don’t really _know_ if he said anything. Like I said, I was on the road, so it was hard to get any letters. All I know is that by the time I got back, he was in Lorule. And he was doing really well, like—” Legend paused.

“It was good for him,” he admitted. “I’ve met Hilda and her sister before, and…even just by reading his letters, I could tell he was doing better than I’d heard him in a long time.”

* * *

“Lorule’s nice,” Ravio said. His pacing slowed enough for Sheerow to land on his hand and Ravio ruffled the little bird’s feathers, making him puff out again with a chirp. “I like it there. So that’s where I’ve been for a while.”

A thought occurred to Riju. “If your brother’s on the run, in trouble, couldn’t he be looking for you there? There’s a princess there too, after all. Maybe that’s where he went.”

“I wouldn’t—well—there’s a couple of problems with that.” Ravio wrung his hands again, leaving Sheerow to take off and titter anxiously overhead. “For one, there’s not really a princess there anymore. I mean—Fable. She was…taken. By Ganon.”

“Oh,” Sun said, soft. “Her poor sister.”

“Yeah, Hilda…we both miss her a lot. Fable’s a good friend.” Ravio was losing his nervous energy the longer he went on, and it was leaving him drained and weary, leaning on the barrel where he’d started. Riju could see the long journey beginning to catch up with him—how long had he even been traveling? She wondered for the first time whether he’d gotten the chance to rest before she’d whisked him away again.

“Legend also might not have the fondest feelings towards Lorule,” Ravio admitted, “since we did have a bit of an argument over me staying there, after that.”

* * *

“But I couldn’t—I had to tell him to come home. I felt awful about it, but I knew Ganon was on the move, here. Obviously not,” Legend swept a hand over the dark magic below, “this much, but it was dangerous for him to stay here. So I sent a letter to him and Hilda, and I said he needed to come home.”

Legend twisted a leather bracer around his wrist. “And she told me no. That my baby brother was needed here. And Ravio agreed with her.”

Old, bitter rage built in his voice like rot, the leather creaking under the pressure of his grip. “And then I got the message that he paid the price for it.”

* * *

“And he’s probably not looking for me there, because apparently he’s been informed I’m _dead?!”_ Ravio’s voice hiked up at the end. “And I should have just—I was so close to talking to him, he was right in front of me, I could have told him I’m alright, but I didn’t know he thought that all this time, and—” he devolved into an indistinct noise.

“That’s terrible,” Sky said. He patted Ravio’s shoulder and Ravio disappeared into his purple hood, pulling it down to cover his face.

“I’m such a coward.” Ravio sniffed. “It’s funny. I think my brother took all the bravery in our blood, being a Hero of Courage and all. Didn’t leave any for me. I couldn’t even speak to him, when I had the chance. I was so afraid of him hating me that now _I’m_ the one who’s let him keep believing I’m dead.”

* * *

“Maybe I’m just a hypocrite, blaming Hilda.” Legend scowled down at the leather bracer. “I’m his brother. I should have come for him, or helped, or—something. What kind of hero even am I?” He cursed, putting his face in his hands. “I hate being back here.”

* * *

“I…” Sky gathered himself, choosing his words. He shared a look with Sun and leaned down, trying to catch Ravio’s eyes under his hood. “…don’t think being called a Hero of Courage gives you any extra advantage on bravery. Not for me, at least. I think, when we find your brother, he’ll understand. It’s not too late.”

* * *

“And now it’s too late. I can’t fix it. So. That’s why—what happened. With Lorule.”

They let his words hang there, drifting down in the fading light.

“I’m sorry,” Wild said, sincere. “That’s awful.”

Twilight was so, so careful. It was a huge amount of vulnerability from Legend, more than they’d ever heard from him before. Taking a risk, he reached out a foot and nudged Legend’s with his own.

“As for what kind of hero you are,” Twilight said. “I think you’re a human one. The kind that makes mistakes; maybe even bad ones, sometimes.”

Twilight could feel Wild’s eyes on him, and he worried a little at what he was thinking, why Wild latched onto what he was saying so desperately. But Twilight meant what he said for anyone.

“But that’s how all humans are, my Mom says. So it’s good to do your best, but no use pretendin’ you’re supposed to be any different.”

* * *

A fragile, hopeful determination began to settle over Ravio’s exhausted shoulders. “I want to make it up to him,” he said. The hood slipped up, showing his eyes, shadowed but steely. “I want to find something to do.”

* * *

“I’m gonna make it up to him,” Legend promised. “I’m here, now. I can help Lorule, if nothing else.”

“And we’ll help you,” Twilight said. Wild and Hyrule echoed their assent.

* * *

“I have to wonder,” Riju frowned. “I can’t help but ask, if you don’t mind. Could there have been some kind of miscommunication about the injuries you have? You seem like you’ve seen your fair share of combat.”

Ravio gave a shaky, derisive snort. “Calling what I do in a fighting situation ‘combat’ is kind of a stretch, but sure. I made sort of an attempt to help drive off the shadow beasts. But Hilda knows I’m alright, surely, and she’d be the one to tell Legend. I was recovering when I…decided to leave.”

Riju heard a hesitation in how he chose to word the last part. She wondered if she should push it. In the meantime, Sheerow settled on Ravio’s lap, cooing up at him and earning himself a scratch through the feathers on the top of his head.

“I hadn’t seen her face to face,” Ravio thought out loud, “but I was told—”

He broke off.

A scowl crept across his face, slow and ugly. It looked out of place on him. “Actually. I wonder if there _was_ a ‘miscommunication.’”

He said the last word in a way that implied he thought it was anything but. Riju shot up her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“It’s not—I don’t _know.”_ He was quick to backtrack, second-guessing himself. “That’s kind of—drastic, so that’s going pretty far on jumping to conclusions. I just…Hilda has this new advisor named Yuga that she’s started to get close to. She’s desperate, with everything going on, so she can’t see—he’s nothing but a leech. I want to think he has Lorule’s best interests at heart, and he says he does, but…”

He met Riju’s eyes. “If you ever do want to go to Lorule to talk to them about an alliance or anything, or if you know someone who is, just…be careful of him. I don’t think it would be impossible for him to pull something like that.”

A chill dripped down Riju’s back and she nodded. “I’ll make sure it’s known.” It looked like she’d have a lot of information to bring back to Urbosa and Lullaby after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe a general content warning? There's a lot in this chapter about grief and grieving, even if it's for a character who's not actually dead
> 
> oh my word though this is like draft number 4 of this chapter, it gave me some _trouble_
> 
> Note: Fable is the Zelda of all Legend's games
> 
> (I love the fan concept of Fable and Legend as siblings so, so very much, but I think this is a cool concept too)
> 
> also, in terms of the reference to Veran from oracle of ages,,,,idk if y'all have seen the theories about her being twili, but i thought it would fit well to give that a lil nod ;)
> 
> (((ehehe it's about to go down next chapter))) ((gonna be another long one))
> 
> Up next: The Zeldas make a visit. Four, on the other hand, has a much less friendly guest. Hyrule, Twilight, Wild, and Legend have a run in with Rather A Lot of Dark Magic.


	19. Into the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Zeldas make a visit. Four, on the other hand, has a much less friendly guest. Hyrule, Twilight, Wild, and Legend have a run in with Rather A Lot of Dark Magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2021, babes! Here's to a better year than the last one!
> 
> A rundown of all the Zelda nicknames, for reference:  
> Sun - Sky's game (Skyward Sword)  
> Dot - Four's games (Minish Cap, Four Swords, Four Swords Adventures)  
> Lullaby - Time's games (Ocarina of Time, Majora's Mask)  
> Dusk - Twilight's game (Twilight Princess)  
> Artemis - Warriors's game (Hyrule Warriors)  
> Dawn - Hyrule's games (Legend of Zelda, Adventure of Link)  
> Aurora - the second, sleeping princess in Hyrule's games, Zelda I (Adventure of Link)  
> Fable - Legend's games (A Link to the Past, Oracle of Ages/Seasons, Link's Awakening, A Link Between Worlds)  
> Tetra - Wind's games (Wind Waker, Phantom Hourglass, Spirit Tracks (maybe))  
> Flora - Wild's games (Breath of the Wild & BotW 2, Age of Calamity)
> 
> Warnings and notes at the end

Malon had many, many years behind her of keeping a sharp eye out for sneaky little hands, so it was with the skill of an expert that she batted Dot’s away from the basket hanging from her elbow.

“Not yet, Dot,” she said without looking, catching one of the smaller hands in hers. “Be patient.”

The space between them was small as they pressed together in a rarely used passage, the rough walls cold in the shadows. A few thin slices of light filtered from openings used sometimes for arrows, just wide enough to slide one through during a siege. As the castle hadn’t seen a siege in some time, it was the perfect place now to wait away from unfriendly eyes. 

“Noooooooooooo,” Dot whined, fainting dramatically to sit on the floor with her hand still in Malon’s. Her strawberry blonde ponytail swung with the motion. “I don’t know how. I am simply not capable.”

“Aww,” Malon squeezed her hand in mock sympathy. “Good opportunity for you to learn, then.” Dot groaned.

A sneaky, booted foot reached out, inch by inch, to slowly settle on Dot’s leg. “Oh, okay.” said Dot. She was treated to a facefull of blue skirts for her efforts as the foot’s pressure gradually increased. “Cool. Alright. That’s what we’re doing now. Thank you, Fable.” Dot’s voice was muffled in the skirt’s fabric.

“Of course,” Fable returned courteously.

Dot shoved her leg away and Fable retaliated by slumping down fully in Dot’s lap, throwing an arm over Dot’s smaller shoulders. The skirt in Dot’s face was replaced with a mouthful of wispy, golden hair. “Oh, oh, okay,” Dot said again, wheezing slightly and utterly unimpressed.

“What’s in the basket?” Dot tried a more direct approach, leaning back to peer up at Malon.

“A surprise.”

“It’s Fable’s birthday, right?” Dot wheedled. “I think we can just surprise her now.”

“Y’know,” Fable pitched in with an air of contemplation from Dot’s lap, as if she’d given it some thought and come to the logical conclusion. “I think we _can_ just surprise her now.”

“Hmm,” Malon hummed. “But _I_ think we can wait on Dusk and Dawn.” Then, under her breath, she added, “Wherever they are.”

Dot and Fable were silent for a moment. Dot mumbled a song under her breath that was brought up often between them and sometimes got her a laugh— _'from dusk ‘till dawn, dusk ‘till dawn, I’ll sing this song from the dusk ‘till dawn…’_

“They’re on the roof,” Fable answered.

Dot gasped and leaned until she could gape at Fable. “Snitch!” She smacked Fable’s arm.

Malon’s amusement—and slight concern—were driven from her mind when she heard a sound in the distance.

 _“Quiet!”_ She whispered sharply. She squeezed Dot’s hand again, hard, and Dot and Fable both went still.

Together, the three of them barely dared to breathe as two pairs of footsteps clanked along the main hallway outside, drawing closer. A patrol. They listened, letting the steps get louder and louder in their measured pace, praying that it would stay that way.

Dot leaned her head against Malon’s leg, drawing closer, and Malon rubbed a thumb on her hand. She used their clasped hands together to brush the top of Fable’s head and rest there.

The footsteps faded, never faltering from their rhythm. Malon let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Can you imagine if we got caught from Dot singing?” Fable spoke up into the thick, tense silence. “That would be so funny.”

“It would _not,”_ Dot replied, high and shaky.

“It would be a _little_ funny, come on, like, a _little_ funny—if they’re just going along their patrol, and they hear _‘from dusk ‘till dawn, dusk ‘till dawn,’”_ she sang the tune quietly to imitate hearing it in the distance, “and, like, if _that’s_ the way they got us—"

_“No.”_

“Fable,” Malon chastised gently. This was Fable’s habit by now, she knew—she dealt with their situation in her own way, and Malon supposed she was glad the girl could find amusement somewhere, even if her sense of humor was a bit dark at times. But that didn’t need to come at the cost of upsetting Dot.

“Sorry,” Fable muttered. Malon tapped her and Dot’s clasped hands at the top of her head in comfort.

“I hope they’re okay.” Dot peered down the hall as if willing the others to appear around the corner at any moment.

Malon had an idea that might take Dot’s mind off of things. “You know who does get to know what’s in the basket already?”

“Who?” Dot was drawn back into the conversation at hand.

“Four. Since he can’t come with us, I already took him some.”

Dot’s mouth fell open. _“Lucky!_ I mean not that he can’t come, but that’s not fair! Come on, if Four gets to know, I wanna know!”

“It’s a trade-off,” Malon reasoned. “You get to come with the rest of us, but you have to wait.”

Dot blew a disappointed raspberry.

A quiet tapping sounded down the hall and interrupted them. It was a five-note pattern they knew well, and Dot brightened, knocking back twice.

“The coast is clear!” Dawn’s voice carried from the end of the hall and Dot shoved Fable from her lap, leaping to her feet to drag Malon along.

“Well, happy birthday to me, I guess,” Fable lamented from where she was left lying on the floor in a heap of her dusty blue dress.

“Come onnnnnnn,” Dot urged.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Fable remained collapsed, declaring to the ceiling.

Malon took pity on her, rolling her eyes and letting a smile play at her lips. “Come on, dear, I’ll help you up.” She leaned down to offer Fable her free hand. Fable grabbed it, using the leverage to pull herself to her feet and nearly dragging Malon down with her.

“Thank you, Malon.” Fable dusted her skirts primly, feigning offense. “I’m glad someone here cares about me.”

“I risked life and limb to go ahead and scout out this whole trip,” Dawn’s voice echoed from down the hall, “but okay, I guess, sure.”

Malon swung her and Dot’s hands between them, Fable trailing behind as the sound of their footsteps bounced and multiplied in the small space. They rounded a corner and caught sight of Dawn in the main hallway, thankfully safe and sound, the gold on her dress glinting bright sunlight. Malon peered around her. “Dusk is still with you, right?”

“Yeah, she’s here,” Dawn confirmed. With a dark braid and a flash of purple, Dusk’s head appeared around the corner, easing Malon’s concern.

“Good,” Malon touched Dusk’s shoulder, reassuring herself by counting them off. Dot, Fable, Dawn, Dusk, one, two, three, four. All here. Plus Aurora in her bed, still sleeping soundly. “Now, what’s this I hear about y’all goin’ on the roof?”

“Don’t be like that!” Dawn protested as she led them down the hall, which was not reassuring. “It’s the best way to go. They might see us, but they know they can’t catch us up there, so there’s nothing they can do about it without looking like fools.” 

Malon took a breath to tell her how much that didn’t settle her nerves but was stopped by Dusk dropping back to match her pace.

“It’s true,” she said, quiet and certain as she always was. “We’ve done this quite a bit, and it’s been a while since anyone’s even acknowledged they’ve seen it. They have to save face; the Emperor won’t take excuses.”

Malon still wasn’t convinced, though hearing it from Dusk was beginning to sway her. She was the most level-headed of the group and least inclined to risks; if she had nothing to say against it, that was telling. “Won’t they just meet us on the other side, though, once we get _off_ the roof?”

“Nope,” Dot popped the ‘p’ happily, swinging their hands with a mischievous grin. “They can’t meet us on the other side. We’re going to see Flora.”

* * *

_“’Be sure to take the time to soothe your mount. That’s the only way it will know how you truly feel.’”_

_The sun was bright and gold on the hills, turning everything on the horizon into dark silhouettes. Wind swept across the grass, ruffling it in long waves and twining around Link as it went. He and Zelda were gold as the hills in the light of the sunset, and the wind swept across them the same as it did through the boughs of the lone tree above them. Link felt like nobody at all, out here, and it made him feel free._

_Zelda’s eyes crinkled, and her voice was warm with affection for her horse. She’d been so cold in those first days he’d known her, and so sad. It was a world of difference. “Your advice was quite helpful—thank you.” He could hear the smile as she glanced at him over her shoulder._

_Link loved seeing her smile. It was so rare, especially around him. But he’d been seeing hints of it lately—glimpses. It made him deeply happy to know she could keep finding things to smile about._

_“This little one and I are getting along quite well now.” She paused, a little bit of hesitance creeping in. “At first, I wasn’t sure if I should outfit him with all of the royal gear. I thought…maybe he should have to earn it first.”_

_She meant a lot more by that than she said, and they both knew it. But neither commented.  
  
“But it works! He wears it like a true natural.” She looked down at the horse with pride. _

_The poor thing really had come a long way to earn her good opinion. Zelda didn’t get the chance for much experience with animals before she and Link started travelling for her research, and she lost patience quickly for dealing with unpredictable living things that were so different from the books and experiments she preferred. He was a sweet creature, though, and watching Zelda fail to keep him from working his way into her heart anyway was endearing._

_“I’m trying to be a bit more empathetic. Benefit of the doubt, you know?” She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head, slyly teasing._

_It was fond and self-deprecating, and it was aimed at Link. It made a nervous, warm, fluttery feeling kick up in his chest, though he’d never show it._

_Afterward she’d talked about their plans to head up Mt. Lanayru. He could hear the life leaving her as she did; her hopes for some kind of progress at the Spring of Wisdom were low. But she would go and try anyway, and he would follow and watch, because it was all they knew to do._

It was dark. A cold wind cut through Link, making him shiver.

He was out in the open, a little exposed, but with shelter at his back and guards on either side, so he could afford to take the time to take stock of himself. No injuries. He had a warm doublet, good boots, a lined cloak. It was a little damp, but the reason why was escaping him right that second. His hair was damp, too—and longer than in his memory. His scars ached.

“Wild?” Someone he knew said. “You back?”

His friend with the gold eyes—Hyrule. Wild nodded. The person at his other side shifted with a half-asleep rumble, solid, warm, and bigger than him. That feeling had a ghost with a different name in the wake of his memory, but he knew it was Twilight. And Legend was perched at the top of a stone monolith, keeping watch with his bow nocked.

“You think you’ve seen something like this before?” Legend pointed his chin over their heads. “Is that what set it off?”

Wild left the shelter of the ruins jutting at their backs to see what he meant; then all the pieces of what they’d been doing jumbled, unjumbled, and slotted together in his mind.

Two of the Hebra range’s peaks came together, here, to cup a valley between their roots. Ruins, old and rough with years of exposure, jutted out to break the rocky expanse and give the four of them cover—thankfully, since Wild was realizing he’d apparently stopped them dead in their tracks for a while. He was in snow halfway up his calves that glittered with reflections of the wall of dark magic ahead. It stretched up as high as he could see, shifting like the glowing smoke of a wildfire in slow motion.

The yellowish light against the dark shapes of the ruins must have jogged Wild’s memory.

“No,” he said, unable to verbalize the rest. “Something else.”

Legend thumped down into the snow, wading a path through to the rest of them. He hummed, considering the wall with distrust. “I can’t see a way through. There’s no break, as far as I can tell, and it goes up pretty high.”

His eyes slid over to Hyrule, followed by Twilight’s.

“Don’t look at me!” Hyrule went on the defensive. “I don’t know where to go!”

“Can you not use your…magic senses?” Legend prodded Hyrule with the end of his bow as if to turn them on at will.

Hyrule swatted it away. “The magic senses speak thusly:” He spread his arms wide to indicate the wall of shadow magic towering above them. “This is some bad stuff.”

As he said it, his eyes glinted, darting through the dark, and he flinched. “There’s a lot of bad stuff around.”

“Well, that’s helpful,” Legend said sarcastically, drawing his bow. He, Twilight, and Wild all pulled together near Hyrule and armed themselves.

A growl crept through the ruins that did not at all reach their ears like anything natural, reverberating in a way that didn’t fit their surroundings. It set Wild on edge. His heart beat a pulse against his throat. He couldn’t tell where the noise was coming from.

One, two, three, four, five sets of geometric, glowing red lines peeled into view and Legend swore, letting his arrow loose.

* * *

Four barely even had time to hide Malon’s gifts away. He wrapped them carefully in the handkerchief she’d delivered them in to shove the bundle under his bedcovers and hated Vaati more bitterly than ever before, because it was _warm,_ and it would be cold by the time Four got to it.

“Do you have a request this time?” Four was feeling emboldened by his annoyance, not even doing Vaati the courtesy of looking up from the blade he was quenching in a cloud of hissing steam. “Or are you interrupting my work for another social visit?”

“You’ve been to speak with the His Eminence.”

Four kept staring at the blade long after it was done cooling, holding it still in the water with his tongs. A thrill of tingling nervousness ran up his back. “I have.”

“You told him you could make the Minish his spies. That they’d serve him, if you asked.”

It was the first time Four could ever remember him calling them by their proper name, and he looked up in surprise. Vaati’s hands were shaking, his eyes dark with cold, quiet rage. He was spurred on by finally getting Four’s attention and drew a dagger from his belt, storming across the room.

Four dropped his tongs and scampered back until he hit the desk under his hanging tools, watching Vaati warily, panicked into silence. He was going to die. Vaati was going to kill him. He’d suspected for a long time that this was the way he’d go, but he hadn’t thought it was going to be today.

“You little _wretch.”_ Vaati planted the dagger in the desk next to him and Four flinched, heart hammering. “They won’t do it. You know they won’t do it. You’re a _liar.”_

“Wh-why are you—telling—telling me?” Four fumbled. He didn’t bother to deny it. “And—and not—”

The truth dawned on him, unbelievable and ironic almost to the point of being funny. A tight, breathy giggle escaped him. “You _did_ tell him. You told the Emperor that they won’t do it, and—he doesn’t believe you?”

Vaati surged toward him, but Four was on edge and ready to dive out of the way when Vaati seized the rack of tools above his head and brought them crashing down. Four backtracked to the other side of the room, putting as much distance between them as possible.

“He’s never believed me. Never. And even I’m not fool enough to make promises about the Minish being willing to do his bidding, I know the truth. They’re _weak._ And soft. No one can claim to command them.”

Four had never seen him lose so much composure. His voice was cracking with outrage, his hair hanging in ragged strands around his face from where it had come loose. He heaved for breath, wild and hunched like an animal.

Four had never had an advantage over Vaati before.

“But I did.” Four put the pieces together, keeping his stance ready in case he needed to run. “You didn’t try, did you? You never thought any of your—your history with the Minish could give you more power, or that there was something you could get out of it. And now you can’t, because I beat you to it.”  
  
Vaati actually _growled_ and another hysterical, hoarse laugh escaped Four. He put a disbelieving hand to his head. “I bet he told you about the offer he made me. Did he tell you that he promised he wouldn’t let you hunt them anymore, and that you’d have to leave me alone?”

“It. Doesn’t. Matter.” Vaati kicked Four’s tools out of the way, sending them aside with a sharp, ringing clatter. “Because they won’t do it. He’ll realize you’re a liar,” he had his dagger back, trembling with the effort of keeping it still at his side, “and then he won’t care _what_ I do to you.” 

Four sucked in a shaky breath. He kept his wits about him, because he knew there was a reason he was still alive. There was a reason Vaati hadn’t already run him through twice over, now, and it was because he _couldn’t_ as long as Ganon thought Four had something to offer him.

He was going to be brave. He was going to do something dangerous. “I think,” Four told Vaati, “you’re underestimating how good of a liar I am.”

* * *

Malon had heard stories about the Young Princess.

Her study in its tower was abandoned and crumbling; no one dared go near it. There were many of those who worked in the castle that swore they could see an otherworldly light, or movement inside when passing by alone at night. Officially, people said, the place was ‘too unstable to set foot in,’ and they’d give each other knowing looks.

Unofficially, Malon had heard soldiers warn each other about the young princess’s ghost that haunted it, stealing the souls of anyone who entered.

It made her sad to hear. She’d watch baby-faced new recruits get scared by the others startling them with a loud noise, laughing boisterously, and see how patrols gave the tower a superstitiously wide berth at night. But all she could think about was the young girl her husband had written her about all those years ago, who never quite got her fill of seeing the world and who had so many questions for a mother who’d never be able to answer.

Now, she followed her girls through the window of that study and felt tears prick at the back of her eyes.

“How…?” She whispered.

There, among the aging books and crumbling stone, the young princess floated, preserved and suspended in golden light.

Her white dress and long, shining hair were streaked with ash, but her eyes were closed as peacefully as if she was asleep. Shelves of blueprints and beakers gleamed and flickered, and from the wreckage grew a host of Silent Princess flowers, keeping their vigil.

“We don’t know,” Dusk answered softly. “It has something to do with the power of the Goddess; it’s how she can keep anyone from coming up here. Even Ganon himself can’t get near.”

“But she’ll let us?” Malon kept her voice just as low, like they were trying to keep from waking her up. “Is she…aware of what’s going on? Can she hear us?”

“Dunno,” Dot said. She reached through the fiery ribbons of light without fear to pat the girl’s leg, answering Malon’s unspoken question about whether it was safe. “But maybe, so we wanna come visit her, just in case. And we can’t really ask her about a nickname, but we saw all the flowers and thought ‘Flora’ would be good. Right?”

Malon half expected the girl to wake at Dot’s touch, but she didn’t show any reaction.

“I think that’s a lovely name,” she told Dot, the words thick in her throat. “Hi, Flora. It’s Malon. I don’t know if you’d really remember me, since we never met face to face, and it’s really been…a long while. But it’s good to meet you.”

She reached out, unsure. She wasn’t a princess blessed by any divine powers, so she hoped that she wasn’t about to get some kind of horrible magical burn from this. It turned out, though, she didn’t need to worry. Her hand passed through the swirls of magic as easily as water.

Flora’s arm was warm under her touch, and it reassured Malon. “Don’t worry, girl,” she said. “We’ll find a way to get you out of this, someday.”

Dot cleared her throat pointedly. “But _today,_ it’s Fable’s _birthday,_ and _we’re gonna get to see what’s in Malon’s basket.”_

Malon laughed, dearly grateful for Dot. “Alright. Fable first.”

Fable, who had settled in the high-backed desk chair in the corner, straightened up. “Give it!” She thrust out both hands and made grabby motions.

“Okaaaaaay, here you gooooooo,” Malon drew it out as long as possible, dipping a hand into her basket as slow as molasses.

“Give iiiiiiiiiiiiiit—”

Malon deposited two long, braided apple cinnamon twists in Fable’s waiting hands, covering her fingers in cinnamon as soon as she touched them. Fable gasped and shoved half of one in her mouth immediately.

“I think!” Fable announced, mushy around a mouthful of pastry, “Um, these are terrible and nobody else needs to have any! Don’t worry, I’ll take care of them myself—" she lunged for the basket and curled her whole body around it, bringing up her knees.

“Nuh uh!” Dot practically climbed on top of her to wrestle for the basket, prying at Fable’s arms as Fable continued a string of denial that the food was any good, insisting she spare them of the rest.

Out of habit, Malon tensed. They were getting loud and rowdy, and it made her nervous.

But up here, she realized, there was no one around to care. They could be as loud as they wanted. A warm wave of incredulous relief washed over her as she watched them shriek and laugh, Dawn shouting at them not to take her fair share and Dusk watching with an open grin.

Still, it wouldn’t do any good to let them squash the rest of her apple cinnamon twists. “Girls! I made enough to share, and I don’t wanna eat any that’ve been stepped on. Give ‘em here, please, ma’am.”

She held out a hand to Fable until the girl begrudgingly gave the basket up. “Thank you. Now, everyone start with two and we’ll see what’s left.”

“Flora, you want your two?” Dot offered. When she got no response, she declared, “I guess not, I’ll just take Flora’s share—”

This kicked off another argument between all four of them, drawing in even Dusk, and Malon’s heart ached from feeling so full.

* * *

Legend’s arrow thudded into the shoulder of a shadow beast but did nothing, absolutely nothing, to stop it from leaping up onto his chest and knocking him to the ground.

“Legend!” Twilight called, but they were all surrounded. The creatures fanned out, snarling warped bellows from all sides, and boy were they _huge_ up close. Hyrule gulped. They cleared the top of his head while crouching on all fours, and the reach of the long, clawed hand that shot toward him was _way farther than he thought, holy Hylia,_ he had to throw himself out of the way. He skidded on the ground and got a cold earful of icy snow.

He heard Legend cry out in the dark and shot to his feet, adrenaline pumping. Legend was on his back with sludge piling up at his shoulders, the shadow beast’s claws in his arms. Hyrule sprinted. Drawing his sword, he buried it in the creature’s flank with as much strength as he could and knocked it aside.

He heaved for air, keeping one eye on the beast. “Legend? Legend? You okay?”

“’m fine,” Legend groaned, stumbling to his feet. The beast coiled and sprang, but this time Hyrule was ready. He met it with the point of his blade and buried his sword deep in the thing’s chest. It gave a bone-rattling howl, catching him on one ear with its claws, but then went still and limp.

Hyrule shuddered, but there was no time for anything else. Legend’s sword clanged behind him, followed by another warped growl, and he could hear Twilight and Wild somewhere nearby.

“Hyrule! Left!” Hyrule heard the scratching, galloping charge in the snow and rolled out of the way of the creature rearing up on two legs high above him. It meant he was on the ground now—he shouldn’t be on the ground. The shadow beast pinned him as he tried to scramble, kicking at its stone mask to no avail. Pain seared through his leg, and he couldn’t move, and the claws were streaking toward his face—

—only for the beast to get an arrow bristling from its palm. Two more buried themselves in its chest and it screeched so loud Hyrule’s ears rang.

“Get him—go—” Legend appeared to kick the creature off of him and arms seized Hyrule from behind, dragging him back.

He struggled, but Wild was quick to shout, “It’s me, it’s me,” and he went limp with relief. “We almost got ‘em. Legend’s—yeah, I think Legend just got that one that was on you. There’s only two left.”

“Okay,” said Hyrule, steadying himself, “okay.” They could do this. “Go, I’m good.”

Thankfully, it was dark, so Wild believed him. Hyrule clenched his teeth against the stinging pain that made his leg weak underneath him. There were four sharp, ragged tears in his trousers, dark with blood that dripped onto the snow. He could feel that the wounds underneath bit deep. His chest hitched when he put weight on the leg, but he struggled to his feet, halfway plastered against a crumbling wall.

“Hyrule? Hyrule! Where are you?” Twilight was calling.

 _Come on,_ Hyrule willed himself. _Survive. Keep moving. You’re good at it._ He bit down on his tongue and limped toward Twilight’s voice.

Two silhouettes were illuminated against the wall of dark magic—one human and one not. Twilight slashed at the shadow beast and danced away, earning him an inhuman howl of rage. The beast was big, and it had a long reach, but Twilight was quick. It lunged and he ducked. Too late, it tried to stop and its momentum carried it into a pillar, stunning it for a moment.

Twilight almost had it, his sword flashing amber overhead, but a swipe of long claws forced him back long enough for the shadow beast to get back its footing.

“Hyrule!” Legend shouted, sharp, and Hyrule realized he hadn’t answered.

“I’m here!” He called back. “I’m okay.”

“You are _not.”_ Legend materialized out of the dark at an unbelievable speed to glare him down in disapproval, out of breath. “Twilight?”

“Yeah,” said Twilight. He planted a kick in the shadow beast’s chest, keeping it away. “Stay with him, I’ll take this one.”

“I’m fine—” Hyrule protested, but he was immediately contradicted when his step fell a little farther under the snow than he was expecting. His leg gave out, making him yelp. Legend caught him before he could faceplant.

“Shut up,” Legend grunted under his unexpected weight.

“Okay, boss-man,” Hyrule surrendered, feeling a little woozy. “Where’s Wild?”

Legend managed to haul him upright and dragged Hyrule’s arm over his shoulders. “He’s going after the other one. Out that way somewhere.” He pointed.

Hyrule saw an explosion flare in the night and felt a little better.

Twilight gave a great yell, and Hyrule’s attention was drawn back to him just in time to see the shadow beast prone on the ground and Twilight leaping up above, driving his sword deep down into the creature’s stomach. With one last howling cry, it went still.

Only Twilight’s harsh breathing was left with the rumble of another of Wild’s explosions in the distance.

Hyrule whistled weakly. “Nice,” he wheezed.

Twilight sighted the two of them. He gave the beast one last kick, making sure it was dead, and came jogging over with his breath fogging up in clouds. “What happened to your leg? Come on, we need to—”

A piercing, wailing, terrible shriek drowned him out. It shook the very ground beneath them, rumbling through the ruins, and Hyrule struggled to clap his hands over his ears.

When he found the source of the noise, his blood went cold in his veins.

The shadow beast Wild was fighting had thrown its masked head back, calling out with that horrible shriek.

And against all reason, the beast laying splayed out behind Twilight shuddered and began to rise, growling once again.

Hyrule whipped around, almost knocking himself and Legend over. Sure enough, the other three creatures were moving too. They snarled and started to close in.

“No way. There’s no way,” Twilight said.

Legend groaned through clenched teeth. “I’ve heard about this. It’s shadow magic. They’ll keep doing it unless we can get them all down at once.”

“All at once?!” Twilight crept back from the creature advancing on him, keeping his sword at the ready.

Legend fumbled to get his sword in his free hand and Hyrule’s stomach plummeted. He couldn’t keep Legend occupied like this; it would leave the fight down to just Twilight and Wild against all five monsters.

He pushed off of Legend, balancing on his good leg. “I can defend myself, don’t worry about me. You gotta help the others.”

“Nuh uh,” Legend denied before he was even done speaking. “Not happening. Come ‘ere.” He snatched Hyrule’s flailing arm with disappointing ease, keeping it over his shoulders in a viselike grip. “Next idea?”

“Twilight—” Hyrule pleaded, hoping for a voice of reason.

“No, I was listening, Legend’s right. What are our other options?”

The beast that was prowling closer paused and tilted its head. It was listening for something. Twilight, Legend, and Hyrule all went silent to strain their ears.

There was a pounding, shuffling, thumping noise in the distance.

Then a distant, warped shriek, joined by a second, and a third, and many, many more.

Twilight, Legend, and Hyrule all turned to meet each other’s eyes.

“I think we should go,” Twilight said, and the others nodded their frantic agreement. “WILD!” He put two fingers in his mouth to whistle as they started to run. “WILD! C’MERE!”

The shadow beast made a swipe for them. Twilight ducked under it, landing a hit on its arm that made it recoil with a hiss. “WILD?”

Wild shouted his reply, muted in the distance, but getting closer.

“Back the way we came—” Twilight shot between gasps, leaping under a fallen pillar to lead the shadow beast on their tail into it headlong. He came out covered in snow. “We’ll lose ‘em.”

“Twilight!” Legend warned. They skidded to a stop, Hyrule almost collapsing against Legend as his leg was jarred.

Their way was blocked by a pack of black shadow beasts, their glowing, red designs melding together into one creeping mass. And it was gaining with inhuman speed.

“Other way, other way—” Twilight circled his hand and took off behind them.

“Right.” Legend crouched down. “Hyrule, get on my back.”

“I’m gonna slow you down—”

“GET ON MY BACK!”

“OKAY!” Hyrule scrambled onto Legend’s back. He couldn’t stop a whine from escaping between his teeth when it sent a new wave of pain shooting through his leg, his forehead dropping onto Legend’s shoulder. Legend shot back a breathless apology and started running.

The open valley stretched too large ahead of them, and Hyrule felt their slowness all too clearly. It felt like they were barely moving across it at all. He could twist and see how the beasts were gaining on them, drifting over the boulders so fast they were almost flying, and it sent his heart into his mouth.

“Wild?!” Twilight called again, and the response was far away. Too far.

Hyrule didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to do. The others didn’t either, he knew. There was no sound between them besides their panicked breathing, no suggestions or plans.

Legend stopped moving and Hyrule lifted his head.

They were at the wall of dark magic. Up close, compared to its glow, everything almost seemed to turn dark around it, like it emanated shadows instead of light. Soot, strange and squarish up close, twisted in the air between them, drifting up in a jittery path.

A wave of growls circled them in. Hyrule’s arms tightened subconsciously around Legend’s shoulders, but he forced himself to let go.

“We’re gonna need our hands free,” he said, unbalancing Legend until he lost his grip and was forced to let Hyrule down. He drew his sword even as he struggled to stay upright.

* * *

“Hey, um, Sky?” A voice spoke up behind him, distracting him from his attempt to help lug some crates up the camp’s one functional staircase.

“Yeah?” It came out a little strained. “Hold on, one second.” With a little bit of creative jiggling, he managed to get the crate balanced in a place that would hold long enough for him to straighten up, swiping sweaty hair out of his face. He turned to find Riju’s new friend—Ravio. That was his name. Some rest and a good meal seemed to have done him some good; his brightness seemed a shade more real.

“I just…wanted to thank you. For what you said earlier.” He shuffled and looked a little self-conscious, fiddling with his hood. “I appreciate it.”

Sky beamed, sincere and bright. “Of course.”

* * *

“And I think,” Vaati told Four, quiet and deadly, “that His Eminence would be very interested to know how much time you’ve been spending with that Princess lately.”

Where Four had one second, one moment of shining triumph, it turned to ash now in his stomach.

“You can’t prove anything,” Four tried weakly. How did he know? _How did he know?_ They’d been so careful!

The smile that stretched across Vaati’s pointed teeth was slow, taunting, and victorious, his red eyes brightening with an almost manic light. “I won’t need to.”

They both knew he was right. Four had nothing to say. His mind was blank with fear.

“You will tell the Emperor the truth: that the Minish are his enemies. Or you’ll have a lot of questions to answer about the company you’ve been keeping, and why.” He said it as a statement of fact, leaving no room for argument.

Four cast about frantically for some way out.

* * *

 _“From dusk ‘till daaaaaaawn, dusk ‘till daaaaaaawn, I’ll sing this song from the dusk. ‘Till. Daaaaaaawn_ …” Dot had finally indulged Malon’s request for a full rendition of the song, and the others were joining in.

Malon hoped Flora could hear them and know she wasn’t alone.

* * *

Something moved in the swirling fog behind Twilight, and Hyrule only had time to shout his name before a black hand reached through and grabbed him.

“Twilight? _Twilight!”_ Legend sprinted, but he was too late. Twilight was yanked back in the blink of an eye, dragged out of sight.

“Legend—!” Hyrule jolted. Another one had Legend by the leg, dragging him down cursing and protesting, and there was one around his own shoulder, burying its claws in his back.

The curtain of shadows closed around him. It writhed across his skin, suffocating him, and he knew his eyes were burning, burning, _burning,_ their golden light fiery as he fought.

His mouth opened, breathless, and with all he had, he pleaded to anyone who would listen— _help—_

And then he heard something answer.

* * *

“Woah,” Ravio’s voice was hushed with wonder. “What does that mean? I’ve never seen that before.”

Sky made a questioning noise and followed his eyes, then froze in shock.

The triforce glowed bright and blinding on his left hand, the bottom right illuminated for courage.

“I…don’t know,” he managed. “I’ve never seen it either.”

“Sky!” Sun appeared at the top of the stairs out of breath, her own hand held aloft with the triforce of wisdom shining. Lullaby and Artemis were close behind.

* * *

A light caught the corner of Four’s eye.

Something glinted on his left hand and he turned it, looking closer—

Then he slammed it behind his back, slapping the back of it against his tunic. Vaati gave him an odd look and he stopped breathing.

“Okay! Fine! Fine. I will. I’ll tell him.” The words wrenched themselves, strangled, from Four’s throat. “Next time he summons me for an answer, I’ll tell him.”

Anything to get Vaati to leave, _now._ He clenched his hand in a fist and buried it hard against the fabric of his tunic. As he spoke, he drifted away farther and farther until his back was pressed to the wall, his hand sandwiched behind it.

Vaati’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I believe you. You seem to have changed your mind very quickly.”

“I promise!” Four begged. “I mean it! Please, just don’t—say anything about—”

The princesses. About Dot. When for so long, he’d suspected, he’d known what his true name was, but it had seemed so wild and unbelievable. Until suddenly the only thing standing between him and death was getting Vaati to just _leave,_ before he saw—

“Very well, then,” Vaati visibly straightened himself, smug as he drew back his composure. Much as Four’s desperation felt sour in his mouth, made his face burn with how quickly he’d fallen back into helplessness against the General, it seemed to be convincing. “I’m glad we have an understanding. I’ll be seeing you again, soon.”

With that ominous proclamation, Vaati took his leave and allowed Four to finally, finally dart into his room and slide his back against the closed door.

Allowed him to draw out his hand, tracing the triforce blazing there with fear and disbelieving awe.

* * *

 _“I’ll sing…this…”_ Dot petered off.

She held up a hand, then looked to the others.

Across the room, all the princesses’ hands were glowing with the golden image of the triforce, the bottom left illuminated for wisdom.

“Does that mean something?” Malon took note of all their dumbfounded faces.

“I…don’t know,” Dawn said, staring down at her own hand. “This has never happened before.”

“Hello?” A voice spoke up and they all whipped around.

Flora’s eyes were open; they glowed flat, gold, and unseeing. “Who are you? Who said that?”

“Flora?” Dot gasped.

Her brow creased, troubled, though she didn’t seem to respond to Dot. “I want to help, can you—?”

She raised a hand and the Triforce pulsed.

* * *

The living, crackling energy that Hyrule felt thrum in his veins and light in his eyes when he used his magical vision surged. He felt it building, chasing itself around within him searching for a way out, and his instincts said _help-danger-attacking-protect—_

**_SHIELD._ **

With a crack and a flare of red light, the magic burst free and it was suddenly quiet. He could breathe. The dark parasite of the shadow curse trying to burrow beneath his skin was burned away, leaving him panting in the snow.

Hyrule cracked an eye open and saw a red, glowing prism around him, dancing with tiny runes of light. He reached out one hand to touch it—it was warm. And familiar. It hummed in the same tune as the magic he felt within him.

It flickered out, leaving him exhausted and confused, but whole.

* * *

Ganon saw Power hovering above his hand, gleaming in the brazier-light of his throne room. He felt the Triforce moving in a way it hadn’t in many, many years.

It awoke many things within him. Fear. Surprise. Rage. Triumph.

Most of all, anticipation. The Triforce was whole within the realm of the living, though it had cast its mortal threads wide and strained, and now he knew it for certain. All that remained was for him to gather it up.

* * *

(It had been a long, long time since the Oni had given any thought to the Goddesses.

But tonight, he did. Because he had to wonder if it was divine intervention that left him alone on the training grounds, not another soul in sight as his dull practice sword clattered in the dirt.

It meant there was no one else to witness the wonderful, terrible, dangerously impossible light that shone like the rising sun on the back of his left hand.)

* * *

Hyrule clung to consciousness by his fingernails. There was so much. It all ran together in his pounding head. _Shadow beasts. Where was Wild? The wall of dark magic. Legend and Twilight, his call for help, the strange, red prism of light._

The only thing he was certain of was the cold snow beneath him.

That, and that a groan sounded beside him.

He forced himself to lift his head. Old instincts told him not to ignore a sound nearby when he was exposed in the open.

The first thing he noticed was a shadow beast prowling, and another. And a third. They crept at the very edges of the light emanating from the triforce on his hand. He was paralyzed with fear, knowing he had no strength to fight back if they chose to attack.

Could he draw up that shield of light again? He tried, digging deep for the warmth he’d felt only seconds ago, but nearly blacked out when he tried to grab hold of it.

Then he found the source of the groan. It was Twilight. He was pushing himself up on shaking elbows, his own triforce shining, trying to get his feet under him and stand—

When he cried out in pain. The shadow magic was here, too, Hyrule could sense it, and he could do nothing but watch as it sunk deep into Twilight’s skin, twisting and rending his bones into another shape entirely. Dark fur shot out and his voice changed, deepening, until it snarled out from a pair of long, fanged jaws.

There was a scuffle somewhere, drawing a shadow beast away. Hyrule couldn’t see what had made it.

All he could do was worry about what had happened to Legend before he fell back into the snow and exhaustion claimed him at last.

* * *

(Across the country, a camp of rebels was drawn away from watching its prisoner in favor of a new, more pressing mystery.

It left Warriors still in the makeshift tent all alone, staring down at the triforce glowing on his hand with a thundering heart, wondering what it could possibly mean.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some blood and violence in this one
> 
> guess what time it iiiiiiiiiis ahahaha
> 
> Up next: Legend runs. Hyrule finds himself in a difficult situation. Warriors gets someone to talk to.


	20. Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legend runs. Hyrule finds himself in a difficult situation. Warriors gets someone to talk to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight babes, I'm about to head back to school for the semester. Updates after this will be a lot slower, but hang in there. I shall return.

Running.

The ground sped beneath Legend’s feet, white and blurred.

He needed cover. He needed to hide, somewhere deep, where he couldn’t be reached. But there was no cover in sight. He was tiny and vulnerable and exposed under harsh, open sky.

Fear threatened to paralyze him as boulders streaked by left and right and he scrambled to weave between them. His heart was beating so _fast._ But the scratching, galloping scrabble was too close behind him.

He didn’t dare look back at the shadow beast chasing him. It was huge, somehow, impossibly big now. Big enough to kill him in one swipe. He was unarmed, helpless, and alone.

So he ran for all he was worth.

He rounded a corner, sliding and tripping in the snow. Ahead, the dark ruins parted to show the wall of shadow magic coming up fast. It was a bad idea, he knew it, but what choice did he have?

He sprinted headlong into it and was thrown back. Pain ratcheted through his body with a shudder, his legs curling. The snow, thankfully, broke his fall and softened it from the hard, rocky ground. But it also trapped him. It shifted and gave as he scrabbled for purchase, losing precious time he didn’t have to waste.

A huge, black claw pinned him in the snowdrift, burying him under its weight.

But Legend wasn’t going down that easily.

He went _wild,_ scratching and kicking and digging for an opening until he found it. With an almighty shove, he twisted between the claws, squeezing out until he was free.

The beast was close behind him, but Legend was faster. He changed directions in a second, turning from a dead sprint one way to the opposite direction with hardly a pause. The shadow beast lost its balance, its momentum throwing it too far into the turn—

But it snagged Legend in the meantime. Before he knew what was happening, he was being tugged into the fall, rolling into the wall of magic, getting dragged forcibly through—

He lost up from down. There was rocky dirt, and soot, and magic burning at his skin. He kicked and struggled, even as he couldn’t see where he was going—

And he hit the ground. They were back on the other side. The shadow beast was stumbling, disoriented, and he didn’t waste a second. As soon as his feet were under him, he was bolting into the cover of the ruins.

A crumbled wall, half an archway, there—!

He saw a huge, white pillar half-buried ahead like a rotting log. The space underneath was narrow; but it was there, and that’s what mattered.

Legend leapt for it and beat the shadow beast by an instant. The pillar shook overhead with the impact. The beast gave an earsplitting screech, scraping its huge claws at the edge of the gap. But it couldn’t reach him. He pressed himself flat into the dirt, watching it try as he went still and trembled.

Then the sound attracted something else.

Legend heard an impact and a cry of pain from the shadow beast. There was a fight—the ground vibrated with footsteps, one set smaller and lighter than the other. The beast snarled and was answered with a shout.

Legend knew that voice. His ears lifted.

There was a series of thuds, one after the other. The shadow beast gave one final cry—

Then the ground shook beneath its falling body and it fell silent.

Harsh breathing came in the stillness after, with a tired, shuffling gait. When no screech followed, summoning the fallen creature back into battle, there was a sigh of relief. Legend echoed it, quiet and small in the hidden crack.

He summoned the courage to push himself to his unsteady feet, spurred on by his desire not to be left behind. Faltering, uncertain, he crawled forward until he could squeeze his way out into the open again. 

There were many days he was glad to see Wild, but none of them matched the swoop of desperate relief he felt now at seeing the other hero hovering nearby to search for salvaged arrows, watching the horizon as he went.

“…Wild?” He called out.

Wild shot up. He stashed his arrows and hunted for the sound of Legend’s voice, his hair whipping at each frantic turn. “Legend? Is that you? Where are you? Where are Twilight and Hyrule?”

“Um.” Said Legend. He half-hopped in Wild’s direction, ears dipping low. “I’m here.”

He could tell when Wild saw him because the bow in his hand dropped from his slack fingers.

* * *

It was cold, and damp, and Hyrule’s leg hurt.

He hated when this happened. When he wasn’t careful enough about deciding where to stay for the night, a rainstorm could crop up while he was sleeping and end up drenching him by morning, leaking under any cover he’d managed to find. What he _should_ do was find a drier spot out of the elements—better yet, get up and moving again in case the weather decided to get worse.

But he was so tired his whole body hurt and getting up meant moving his leg. If he could just get a little more sleep—

There was a shuffle nearby and an animal noise. A big animal noise. Then Hyrule was _very_ wide awake.

He was up and moving back, keeping the sound in front of him, his back colliding with a flat wall. Then the pain in his leg spiked over his adrenaline and he stumbled, falling to the floor again.

The most urgent thing nearby was the huge creature—he saw dark fur, a long snout and pointed ears. A wolf. Not moving, not on its feet. Not looking at him. Yet.

He needed to get out of close quarters. There wasn’t—there wasn’t a way out. He looked again.

Bars, huge, stone bricks, chains, torches in the hall outside. Yellow light falling from a window far above. He was in a jail cell.

_What was a wolf doing in a jail cell?!_

There was a wolfish groan. The creature began to struggle to its feet, shaking itself out. When it did, a chain jingled. Now that Hyrule looked, he could see a heavy manacle around one of its forelegs, attached to the chain. This only gave him more and more questions.

The wolf must have heard Hyrule, because it turned to peer at him where he huddled in his corner with wide, very un-wolflike blue eyes. It whined and sniffed at him, stopping its approach when the chain jerked taut.

A hazy, surreal memory prodded at the back of Hyrule’s mind. From when he was barely conscious, laying in the snow; one of the last things he remembered seeing.

“…Twilight?” He tried, tentative. He could see flickers of gold, just a smidge of a reflection, like a dying ember as he reached out. He could feel the presence of the wolf, muted but warm. Almost like a heartbeat.

He uncurled. Though everything hurt and he watched the wolf’s huge jaws a little nervously, he inched closer.

When he got close enough, the wolf touched his arm with its nose.

“It is you, isn’t it?” Hyrule moved a slow, cautious hand to pet the top of the wolf—Twilight’s head. “What happened? Where are we? Where are Legend and Wild?”

Twilight settled his head in Hyrule’s lap with another soft whine. It seemed that neither of them had any idea.

“Aww,” said a voice with a strange, lilting accent. “Isn’t that adorable!”

Hyrule jolted away from the bars. Twilight got to his feet and snarled, edging in front of him.

Outside in the shifting light of the torches was a being the likes of which Hyrule had never seen before. She looked to be about half as tall as him, not counting the horned, stone helmet she wore on her head that hid one eye. Everything about her was pointed and sharp, from the shape of her arms and legs to her long, black ears and taunting grin. She floated just off the ground, a long ponytail drifting behind her that could have been made out of living fire.

“Oh,” she cooed, “don’t be that way. Snarling and glaring at me? Are you sure you want to do that?” She clicked her tongue. “And you were being so sweet just a minute ago, too.”

“Who are you?” Hyrule snapped over Twilight’s bristling hackles when he found his voice. “What do you want?”

She leaned in the air, throwing one leg over the other in a leisurely slouch. Her orange eye was heavy and bored. She was enjoying taking her time answering, and it was starting to get under Hyrule’s skin.

“It’s too bad,” she said with an air of disappointment. “I was planning on helping you…if you were nice.”

Hyrule and Twilight exchanged a look. Even with no idea who this person was or where she came from, it would be stupid to throw away an offer of help without listening first. This place reeked of dark magic—neither of them had any idea where they were, much less who’d seen fit to put them in a cell. And Hyrule didn’t really feel like waiting around to find out.

Besides, they needed to find Legend and Wild. Though Hyrule thinned his lips and Twilight shifted, unhappy, the growl died in his throat. His hackles began to settle.

With a giggle, the mysterious imp twirled around—

—and appeared right in front of them. “That’s much better! You Hylians are obedient to a fault, aren’t you?” She paused as if something had occurred to her suddenly. “Oops. But you _aren’t_ Hylian anymore, are you! You’re a beast!”

She giggled again, patting under Twilight’s chin with a little more force than was necessary. Hyrule felt his sentiments echoed when Twilight snapped at her hand, prompting her to jump back to keep her fingers. Unbidden, a creeping fear prodded him at her words. How…permanent was this wolf thing, exactly?

Hyrule swallowed it down and decided to keep his thoughts to himself, for now. He doubted they’d get any straight answers, if this person even knew, and he didn’t want to worry Twilight if the thought hadn’t come to him yet.

“There, there.” She perched on the tips of her pointed feet, unaffected by gravity. “You be a good boy and calm down. No need to bite!”

“If you don’t want him to bite,” Hyrule spoke up coldly, “maybe you should keep your hands to yourself.”

“Oh!” She cocked her head, eye glinting with cutting mirth. “Does that mean you’re done hiding behind your puppy? Or am I too—”

Her voice jumped to his shoulder as she appeared behind him. _“—scary for you?”_ Her grin had turned wide and serrated.

Hyrule reacted on impulse, throwing back an elbow, and she disappeared again with a snicker.

Twilight’s growl was back.

“Oh, hush,” she chided. Her visible eye narrowed in concentration. She brought her hands together, one cupping the air on top and one on the bottom. Between them, a jittering ball of dark, red energy flared, spinning madly. With a snap of her hands, the ball slung into a flat blade of magic.

There was a spark, a crack, and the chain connected to the manacle on Twilight’s leg severed. Twilight picked up his foot, shaking it to test his freedom. The chain rattled but came loose easily.

“So, I know you’re wondering, ‘where exactly are we?’” She swept out her arms like a performer. “Between just the three of us, I can offer you a deal. If you accept, I’ll tell you. _And_ I’ll help you get out of here!”

Twilight’s ears flattened, but the growl in his throat petered off once again. Hyrule didn’t like it either. He ran his fingers through the scruff on the back of Twilight’s neck for support.

“Explain the deal, first.” Hyrule said. “Then we’ll see.”

She sighed, drifting down wearily in the air. “If you insist.” She rolled her eyes. “In exchange for my generous help, you have to do _exactly_ as I say. There’s a little something out in this world that I need to find, and you’re,” she poked Twilight’s nose, popping out of reach before he could react, “going to help me.”

“Out in this world where?” Hyrule asked. She was going to need to be more specific than that. “Also, ‘this world?’” Her wording was…strange.

“So many questions!” She complained, which wasn’t an answer. “Just get to the point. Will you accept my daring rescue or not?”

Hyrule tried to weigh out their options in his mind.

On one hand, they could try to escape on their own. Their odds weren’t great. Hyrule wasn’t exactly overflowing with ideas about how to pull that off, and Twilight was _a wolf._ They couldn’t speak to each other and there was only so much he could do to help. That didn’t even count the problem of what they’d do next if they _did_ get out. Hyrule and Twilight had no idea where they were or where to begin looking for Legend and Wild.

They could also choose to reject her offer, stay here, and face the consequences. There was some unknown force to face that had put them here, and most likely it was either because they were being accused of some crime…or, he had to allow, stomach churning, someone had seen the triforces on their hands and wanted to turn them over to the Empire. It wasn’t really a chance he wanted to take.

But they couldn’t just commit to roaming the country or farther looking for whatever it was this imp wanted. That could take months, even years as far as he knew, and it was too dangerous for them to be in the open that long. They had other heroes to find, besides, and there was a group of rebels out there somewhere waiting on them.

All the answers Hyrule had were wrong. Twilight and Legend, Wild and all the other heroes, the rebels, maybe even the kingdom—he was supposed to be thinking of them, too, wasn’t he? The responsibility of accepting the name Chosen Hero was beginning to slam down on his shoulders, of what that meant and who he was supposed to be. There were so many people whose futures counted on what he decided to do. Hyrule had never had to make a choice before with so much responsibility hanging on it, and it scared him.

“Twilight?” Hyrule’s hand kept carding through the scruff of fur of its own accord. Belatedly, he hoped Twilight didn’t mind too much. He didn’t seem to.

Twilight huffed, probably frustrated with not being able to speak his mind and answer. He put a paw on Hyrule’s knee.

Hyrule needed another option.

“Look,” he said. He opted for just telling her the truth. “We can’t just go wandering out across the world looking for whatever this is. We have places to be, and there’s people counting on us to be there. If you help us, we’ll—we’ll do what we can, to help you. But there’s lives at stake here that we can’t just throw away.”

She sighed. He was a little surprised to see she didn’t answer right away. “How heroic,” she said ambiguously. It was taunting as everything else, but, somehow, more resigned.

“Very well.” She straightened up, taking on an imperious tone. “I will get you and your little guard dog out of here. We will negotiate the remaining terms later.”

That sounded like a terrible idea, but Hyrule was desperate and maybe by the time ‘later’ came, they’d have Wild and Legend to back them up. “Deal.”

She giggled darkly. Hyrule hoped he wasn’t making too big of a mistake.

* * *

“You’re pink.”

Wild sat down heavily in the rocky dirt.

“I think we have bigger problems than that?!” Legend had to question his priorities. _“I’m a rabbit!”_

“Rabbits aren’t pink.” He grabbed one of Legend’s ears, holding it up for a closer look.

“And _I’m not a rabbit,_ and yet _here we are!”_ Legend twisted his head to yank his ear out of Wild’s grasp. “Stop that.”

His rush of adrenaline was beginning to ebb away, leaving him tired and shaking. He was a rabbit. He was a _rabbit._ He didn’t know why, or how to fix it, and all his stuff seemed to have disappeared, including his money, his weapons, including—including his _ring—_

He tried to pull himself together. Without the hot, thrumming panic driving him on, the cold was already beginning to creep back in. His ears hurt, and his feet felt like ice.

“What happened?” Wild, too, must have been feeling the cold. He pulled his cloak tight around his shoulders. “Were Twilight and Hyrule with you? Are they okay?”

That was the other thing. He caught a glimpse of them on the other side of the wall of magic, but he was too busy running for his life to see what happened after. “I think they were. I don’t know. I don’t know what happened.”

Wild scanned the horizon one more time, distant and forlorn. “What should we…should we start looking for them? Should we stay here and wait?”

When his gaze fell to Legend again, Wild frowned. “You’re shivering. I—” he swore under his breath. “You gotta be cold. It’s too exposed out here.”

“’Ey—‘ey!” Legend jolted away from Wild’s hands trying to scoop him up. “I’m f-f-fine!”

Wild clamped two hands to his sides, almost like putting them on his shoulders, and Legend’s ears flattened in irritation.

“You are very small,” Wild said, spelling it out slowly. “Small animals do not have much body heat. That is why rabbits are not out here at night. They find some _shelter_. So they don’t _die.”_

The fight drained out of Legend. Wild was getting snappier as the exhaustion and uncertainty wore on his temper, but underneath there was a real current of worry. And he wasn’t wrong, even if Legend hated it. He didn’t come all this way and survive everything he had just to freeze to death out of spite.

When Wild went to scoop him up again, Legend only let a halfhearted grumble fall into the dirt, offering no resistance. It took some shuffling to keep him from feeling like he was about to be fumbled and dropped at any second, but Wild managed to get his arms positioned right to support him and drew his cloak tight around them both. The warmth of his body heat was a relief, as well as having found someone with a sword who happened to give two rupees about keeping Legend from getting eaten by a hawk or something. If Legend sank into the feeling of safety a little bit after such a near brush with death, sue him, no one would be the wiser.

“Could we head back to that town? Seram? Terra?” He could hear the words in Wild’s chest as much as out loud as they started to move. From what he could see through the sliver of a crack in Wild’s cloak, he was beginning to weave back through the ruins the way they came, keeping to the level ground as much as he could so he wouldn’t need his arms to climb.

“Sera,” Legend corrected him. “And did you forget the fact that there were even more shadow beasts there? And Imperial guards?”

“Mmmmm,” Wild hummed, doubtful and a tad playful. “I don’t know, I think we killed ‘em all.”

“All the shadow beasts. Every one,” Legend restated flatly to emphasize how dumb that assumption was.

“I’m very good, you know,” Wild jokingly agreed. Legend sighed as loud as he could to make sure Wild heard him despite being muffled through the cloak. “Really, though,” Wild continued, “I think we could do it. They’re looking for, what, a group of four fighters including a pink-haired guy? We can be stealthy. I’m just one lonely traveler and my trusty pet rabbit you don’t need to look too close at, no he’s not pink, it’s just a skin condition.”

Despite himself, Legend let out a weak, tired laugh. This kid.

Slowly, the ground was beginning to level out beneath them. It was sloping higher and higher, bringing them out of the valley and back up to the base of the highlands. In the distance, Legend could almost imagine he could see smoke rising out of the crack where Sera resided, or maybe even the light of distant windows.

He could hear the grin in Wild’s voice. “And I’m mute. Or deaf, maybe. Can’t answer any suspicious questions, you know, I’m very convincing.”

That got a snort out of Legend and Wild snickered.

“This is my seeing ear rabbit,” Wild rehearsed saying in a pathetic, wavering voice. “Please, I need him ever so dearly!”

“Okay,” Legend could barely get out through the laughs threatening to choke him off, “there are so many—first of all, I thought you were mute and possibly deaf, so you’re—you’re kind of ruining the act, my—my friend, and _‘seeing ear rabbit?’_ You’re as bad as Hyrule! With—with, you said he said something about…about ‘the coast is clear and accounted…’”

A dark swoop arose in his chest as he thought of Hyrule again. There were other shadow beasts there, when Legend ran. For all they knew, Hyrule could be…

Wild must have caught on to his sudden silence, because he reached a cold hand in to scratch the top of Legend’s head.

“Are you petting me? I’ll bite you.” Legend thumped a foot and immediately regretted it when it almost made Wild drop him. “Alright, alright, never mind! Watch it, buster!” Halfway through climbing up Wild anyway, a thought occurred to him. “Hey, lemme get a look around and see where we’re going.”

Wild obliged, hefting Legend up so he could rest his front paws against Wild’s shoulder. He shuddered at being out in the cold again but tried to get an idea of the lay of the land. He tried not to get too distracted when he felt his ears rise up and swivel outwards of their own accord to better listen.

“You’re very soft,” Wild observed, bracing a hand against Legend’s back to balance him.  
  
“Shut up. I can bite your ear off. Rabbits are very strong.” He boxed a halfhearted paw against the pointed tip of Wild’s ear, just to give him an idea of how easily he could reach, still mostly focused on scouting.

“We’re coming around kind of a different way from last time,” Legend thought out loud, “but if we keep heading along the bottom of this cliff, I think there’s a pretty good-sized opening that leads into that same area where the main town is. There should still be a few inns and, well. I guess they’re probably a lot less full than they used to be, so we should be able to find some room.”

“Sounds good to me,” Wild said. Then he cursed, sharp, and bundled Legend into his chest before sliding down a spike of rock, hunching in the snow beneath. Legend went still as stone, ears twitching at every noise.

The clanking, metal rattle of armor and thump of regulated bootsteps approached. Legend couldn’t tell by listening how many, but it was definitely more than just one or two. It made him wonder, nervous. Just how many guards did a nearly-abandoned trading town need?

When the steps had passed, they let the silence lay for a while. But Wild was nothing if not impatient and Legend soon found himself getting juggled as his ride made a concerning beeline for the sheer cliff face.

“Hey? What do you think I’m gonna do, here, start rock climbing with these?” He put his front paws up in Wild’s face.

Wild leveled an unimpressed look at him. “We can’t stay on this road. There’ll probably be more, and we could get trapped in plain sight. We should get up high, where no one will see us.” He held Legend out by the chest, putting him down back-feet-first on a rock so Wild could shuffle through his bag. “I’ll put you in here, come on.”

“I hate this plan,” Legend made sure he knew. Not that he had any other ideas, it was just the principle of getting dangled off Wild’s back Goddess-knows-how-many feet in the air.

“I’m not gonna drop you,” Wild rolled his eyes, “come ’ere.”

Soon enough, Legend found himself wrestling with Wild’s glass potion bottles, bedroll, and various greens stuffed in between them to get his head out under the top flap of the pack, dodging the belt of leather and freezing buckle that held it in place. He took one look at the rapidly receding ground and dove back in, warring with the decision of whether he should watch his impending death approach and meet it head on or hide.

There was a jolt at one point, Legend’s stomach going weightless as they lost ground, and he let loose an inhuman shriek.

“Sweet Hylia, Legend, was that you? Never make that sound again, that was terrifying.”

“Then don’t _do that again, you’re gonna kill us both.”_ Legend gave him a hearty kick to the spine through his pack and Wild jumped, trying and failing to elbow him back. Good.

He could feel when Wild reached the top, dragging himself up by the arms to crawl out onto solid ground at last. He crouched, catching his breath, and Legend peeked out under the pack’s flap again.

“I think…I might be able to see…something,” Wild panted, catching his breath. “Like, where those…guys were headed. There’s something over there.”

Legend knew what that meant, he’d been around Wild long enough. “Wild. We’re not exploring right now, Wild. We’re going into town and not attracting attention.”

To Legend’s extreme misfortune, Wild was the one whose legs currently decided where they were going. And Wild’s legs were skirting a few icy, dead bushes farther away from the edge of the cliff, a little more out of sight and heading away from the town.

“Just really quick,” Wild said. “It’s good information to know, right? If there’s something dangerous.” He added under his breath, “or something cool.”

“Fire of Din, I’m stuck in the bag of a toddler.” Legend thumped his head against the wall of the pack. He felt like the world’s most ineffective babysitter. Or like…

_“Just really quick, I promise, I think I see something shiny down here! It could be valuable—dibs on if it’s treasure, I call it!” A shriek, then hands clinging to his arm, a smaller body pressing into his back. “I SAW TEETH. Legend, get it, get it, it’s gonna eat us—!”_

His irritation melted a tad into something more wistful that ached as it seeped between his bones. There was one little annoyance he’d give the world to have plaguing him again. Maybe he didn’t have to be quite such a killjoy, while he still had the chance.

Begrudgingly, he lifted his head out of the pack and asked, “Something cool like what?”

“Like…a fairy fountain,” Wild slid down a slope on his heels, mindful not to unbalance the two of them. He followed the edge of a frozen pond. “Or some big hearty radishes. Or horses! Or a korok hiding somewhere,” He counted on his fingers as they ducked under a bare copse of trees. Then winced. “Hopefully not a lynel. I don’t think it’s flat enough here for a lynel, though.”

A sound in the distance reached Legend’s ears. Voices, maybe? “Do you hear that?”

Wild twisted to talk to Legend over his shoulder. “Nah, not yet. Which way?”

Legend pointed. Near the edge of the sheer drop down to the road below, there was a pile of weathered boulders that were halfway to melding back into one, creating a barrier. Wild made for it now, giving them a good vantage point to see what lay beyond without being spotted.

“I do hear it now,” Wild said. “It sounds…kinda familiar? It’s right…I can’t quite…”

Beyond their rocky shelter, they were able to see where the bare cliffs met grass, having finally reached the edge of the snow. Here, the dip in the land blocked the worst of the wind and weather and the temperature was milder. They were probably just past the edge of town. Legend spotted a few fences down the road, poking out around the corner.

“Over there.” Wild spoke up, pulling his attention in the other direction. “That’s a watchtower.”

It was. A plain, serviceable platform rose up above the ridge with silhouettes moving in the dark, torches flashing. Military. It was dark, but now that Legend looked below, the random lights there began to resolve themselves into windows, braziers, the flapping shadows of pennants. Unease settled over him, slow and heavy.

“These aren’t just a few guards,” Legend realized. “This is an outpost. To keep an eye on the border.”

It certainly explained why the town was so deserted, now.

Over the wind, he could just barely make out a voice or two calling commands, barking out drills or something. It must have been what he’d heard.

“So,” Legend leaned one foreleg over the lip of the bag, wry, to ask Wild, “still feel pretty good about that whole seeing-ear-rabbit bit, or…?”

He trailed off. Wild didn’t respond. His eyes had gone unfocused, his shoulders stiff and still against the wall of the pack.

“Oh,” Legend said softly. _“That_ kind of ‘sounds like something familiar.’”

He tried not to be hit too hard with the feeling of, for all intents and purposes, being very much alone again. But this time, if something were to happen, _Wild_ would be in danger, too. And there wasn’t anything he could do about it. They were probably fine up here, alone and hidden. The worst they had to fear was maybe some kind of animal.

But there was always the chance this could happen again.

Maybe heading into town was a good idea, after all. At least there, if things went south, there was an off-chance of some local taking pity on their poor souls and helping.

It was a long time, concerningly long, before Wild started to blink and scrub at his face, settling back against the boulders with his legs crossed.

“Have you been here, before?” Legend wondered. “Or did something about the outpost set you off?”

Wild shook his head and held up two fingers. The second option, then. Legend squirmed out of the bag, barely managing to land on his feet. He shook himself out and hopped over to sit in front of Wild.

Whatever he’d remembered, it apparently gave him a lot to think about. He unbuckled and fixed his bracers, twisting the straps, then ran a hand through his hair. When his fingers hit the tie that held it in its ponytail, he pulled it out with a frustrated jerk and started to fix it.

“Hey, you good?” Legend was starting to get worried.

Wild’s attention seemed elsewhere. He put up two fingers near an eye, moving them around the side of his head, then moved a flat hand in front of his mouth and began to bring it down before he seemed to think about what he was doing and stopped.

Hesitant, he looked to Legend, put a flat hand with fingertips touching his own temple, then moved two pointing fingers around each other in front of him.

“Sorry, I don’t…” Was this sign language? Legend had seen it, once or twice, but he didn’t know Wild used it.

Wild sighed and waved off his apology. He turned to dig through his bag, going in up to his elbows, before drawing out a battered book and stick of graphite. Legend had seen it make an appearance from time to time when Wild had a recipe or something to take down.

‘Kind of complicated,’ Wild wrote. ‘It’s hard to explain. And the memory made…’ He stopped and tried again. ‘This one, it’s…’ He blew a frustrated breath through his lips. ‘Bad memory. Can’t talk.’

“You don’t have to,” Legend was saying even before the irony caught up to him. Only so many hours ago, their positions had been reversed. Now he was the one in Wild’s shoes, and he wanted Wild to know the same sentiment extended to him that he’d given Legend; he didn’t have to tell anything about his past he didn’t want to.

Wild was scratching out more with the graphite, slower now, less agitated. He held it out for Legend.

‘I was in the royal army, before. It sounded like this all the time.’

Legend couldn’t picture it. “You? Following orders?”

Wild huffed a soundless laugh, just air with no voice. ‘Trust me,’ he wrote, a little smudged and shaky as Legend read, ‘I’m pretty sure I was very good at that. I was really different.’

Legend’s stomach sank. Really different, huh? Legend would know a thing or two about that. “If you’d met me a few years ago, I’d be pretty different, too.”

The words were dark under the pressure of Wild’s hand. ‘I was the perfect soldier. And it never helped anyone. Not a single person. Not Zelda, not me, not Twilight’s dad, not the kingdom—’

“Okay, I get it, stop.” Legend stopped Wild’s hand with his paws. “If this place brings up bad memories, let’s not stick around.”

* * *

Warriors had been a soldier for a long time. He was used to routine. Action. A mission.

If he had to sit still here in this tent for another minute, he was gonna lose it.

You’d think that being held captive in an enemy camp would be a little more interesting. But after the first few days of staring at the same piece of wall and canvas, investigating every inch that the chain on his wrist would reach, listening intently to the sounds outside and waiting for visitors, he was mind-numbingly bored.

He’d long since gotten tired of speculating about where they were. If he’d been conscious at all for the trip here, he’d have more to work with, but he really had no idea how long they had ridden by horse (?) or what areas they’d passed through. They were somewhere hot and damp that was steadily growing more so. That was about all he had.

Outside, he could hear voices chatting and feet shuffling, punctuated by a bunch of solid clacking noises. There had been more people around, lately; usually they spread out, or spent more time lower down in wherever-they-were. But it had been flooding, he knew, both because Artemis had been by and told him and because he could hear the water. At least it gave him more to listen to.

He heard a shout and a laugh. “Wait,” someone said, “do it again, do it again—”

Maybe, if he could lean just right…

He’d figured out that if he wiggled around, he could peek past the edge of the canvas enough to see a little more of his surroundings. It took some work, but if he just…nudged the crate in front of him a little more…

There!

Past a bit of a curve in the colosseum level he was on, there was an empty stretch that stayed relatively dry, since it was shielded at the top and bottom by decorative barriers. It was shadowed through most of the day, out of the way of the main traffic of the camp, and lately had been piling up with waterlogged barrels.

Now, though, someone had found another use for it. Two people were dancing around each other, darting back and forth unsteadily as they yelped and laughed. The clacking noise was something wooden—brooms, maybe? They had wide ends like brooms. Both were wielding them like swords.

They were _sparring._ Warriors sat up. He would eat his scarf whole for a good spar, right now. 

It was clearly uneven. One of them, taller and more built like a swordsman, was moving with the easy grace and technique that came from training. The other swung a broom like a bat, panicking and wildly smacking whatever he could reach.

The smaller one got lucky, landing a hit on the other’s hand, and the poor guy belted out a laugh that Warriors could hear even from his distance. He shook the hand out, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

Ducking his head bashfully, the shorter of the two glanced away and noticed Warriors watching. The other followed his gaze. Oops.

Warriors knew he was caught. He watched the taller one approach with trepidation, wondering if he needed to get ready for an argument. Or worse.

Then the guy got close enough for Warriors to see him better, and he realized, oh, he recognized that guy.

And then he realized _oh no, he recognized that guy._

“Hello,” Warriors gave a nervous wave to the guy he’d chased across the entire East Barrens. “Um. Sorry for eavesdropping?”

“Oh, uh, don’t worry about it.” Sky scratched the back of his head. “Me and my friend were just…practicing.”

That was kind of a generous thing to call waving a broom around like you were fighting a swarm of bees, but Warriors guessed that’s where the ‘practice’ part came in.

Warriors was very far out of his depth. This was not a situation he ever expected to be in. What do you say to someone you tried to arrest and ship off to the capitol for treason, only for _you_ to be the one who ended up captured in the end? To the guy who was now?? Trying to make friendly conversation???

Without being able to think of anything else, what fell out of Warriors’s mouth was, “Want another opponent?”

Sky gave him a searching look.

Immediately, Warriors regretted it and backtracked. What was he thinking? Anyone in their right mind would think that was an escape attempt, or him looking for an opening to attack. “Haha,” he tacked on the end, trying to make it sound like a joke.

“Yeah,” Sky said slowly, “I would like that, actually. I have some things I wanted to ask you.”

Now _that_ was a loaded response. Mind racing, Warriors tried to pick through what that could mean. He was slightly panicking, so the first thing his mind jumped to was an interrogation. He tried to talk himself down from there, heart in his throat. He could do this. He just wanted a spar, honestly, it was too early for him to try any scheming anyway.

“Wait just a second,” Sky said, jogging off.

All he had to do was get Sky talking. Warriors could turn a conversation around so that _he_ was the one getting information instead of Sky, right?

There was also the chance, a voice in the back of his mind said, that Sky could mean exactly what he was saying. That he just wanted to talk. In the one conversation they’d had, he seemed like a genuinely nice kid.

A pitched question drew Warriors’s attention and he saw Sky’s friend watching uncertainly as Sky returned with a key.

“I’ll put it right back, they’ll never know!” Sky answered. Then, to Warriors, he leaned in conspiratorially. He started working the key into the handcuff around Warriors’s wrist. “Because we’re just gonna have a friendly spar, right? And then you’ll go back in here and I’ll go about my business, and _neither_ of us is gonna get in trouble.”

“Yep.” Warriors nodded. He got the message. “On my word, just a spar.” For now.

He could have cried with relief when he finally stepped out of the makeshift tent and got to stretch. The wind ruffled his hair where it lay damp and heavy from the humidity and he felt like he could breathe again.

He also got his first true glimpse of the camp. The stone colosseum stretched wide, packed to the brim and teeming with crowded life. Rito wove through clumps of Hylians and apologetic Gorons who tried to hunch out of the way, children shrieking and knocking people aside. The water below did nothing to hamper the chaotic beauty of the place. Long, tropical fronds dipped into the washed-up lily pads and a few Zora splashed lazily through, more enjoying a swim than working on anything. He thought he might have caught a glimpse of the red Zora woman who’d saved him—Mipha, he remembered her saying—and her tall brother.

Sky cleared his throat and Warriors tried to pull away casually like someone who wasn’t sniffing for information.

“Artemis said your name is Warriors, right?” Sky scooped up his broom from where he’d left it leaning in the barrels. When he got confirmation, he dropped a hand on the dark head of his friend, who was clutching his own broom to his chest and staring at Warriors like a mouse would a bird of prey. “This is Ravio.”

“Hi,” said Warriors.

“I’m gonna. Go.” Ravio fumbled his broom into Sky’s hands. “Here.”

Warriors frowned. “You can stick around, if you want, you don’t have to be—I’m not gonna, like, hurt you or anything…” Ravio was already gone. And Sky was giving him another searching look that made Warriors feel like he was missing something.

“Did I do…something…?” He was lost.

Sky opened his mouth, his expression baffled at Warriors for some reason, before closing it again. “Don’t worry about it. Here,” he handed Warriors a broom, “let’s get to that spar.”

Warriors gave the broom a spin to feel out the weight. It wasn’t anything like balanced, obviously, since the bristle end of it threw things off so much, but he was good at working with what he had.

“You ready?” he made sure. No use getting accused of some kind of very sad attempt at foul play.

Sky spun his own broom. “Whenever you are.”

Warriors could tell a lot about someone by how they started a spar. There were many people—especially if they had an audience—that would try to rush their opponent right away to catch them off-guard. A choice few would try some kind of flashy, unexpected trick they planned ahead; he could tell those people from a mile away, though, even if he didn’t know exactly what the play would be. Some, nervous, would hover back at the edge of a fight and jump too quickly into every strike.

It was the people who _watched,_ though, that put up a real challenge. And though he suspected how inexperienced Sky was, Warriors could see Sky taking note of his stance, the way he held himself, where Warriors was looking.

Good. Warriors felt a thrill of anticipation.

He tried a couple testing jabs and decided to see how well Sky could multitask. “So, what did you want to ask?”

Sky blocked them with textbook form. “Way back when we met, you talked about why you’re a soldier. But I wanted to know:” He tried a strike of his own; it was angled around Warriors’s guard and forced him to dodge back. “What do you think of Ganon?”

Warriors took note of Sky’s fine-pointed control of his ‘blade’ and made sure to watch for it in the future. He tried to think. Was there any way this could be a dig for information? It didn’t seem like it. It seemed like Sky had given the question some thought and really wanted to know his answer.

What _was_ his answer? He’d never been asked that before. He only knew the man by reputation, after all; through the country he’d remade and by the orders he gave his soldiers. And those soldiers were hardly about to risk much time in the earshot of others speaking about him.

To stall, he tried giving Sky something a little more difficult to work with. He made a swing for Sky’s side, anticipating the dodge he’d make, and continued the momentum to spin behind him. He aimed to give Sky a good rap across the shoulderblades—

Only for Sky to duck. He went for Warriors’s waist, unbalancing him—then there were hands on Warriors’s arm and he found himself being flipped.

With a yank, he just managed to pull his arm free and twist. He got his feet under him. Barely. He teetered back and just managed to knock away a strike when Sky tried to push his advantage. Then another two, quick.

Warriors blinked. “That was good.” He was impressed.

“Thank you.” Sky preened a little, flexing his shoulders. “You still haven’t answered the question, though.”

“I think…” Warriors circled to look for an opening. Sky kept up, managing his footing well. “He’s a strong leader. He’s been on front lines of a lot of his battles, and he’s skilled in combat. He’s a good strategist.”

“He’s a strong leader,” Sky echoed. He went for Warriors’s legs, forcing him to jump. “Is he a _good_ one, though? Does he look out for the welfare of his people?”

That’s not how it worked. “He’s an Emperor. He deals with invasions, uprisings, that kind of thing. It’s naïve to think he can concern himself with every food shortage and monster attack in the kingdom. I wish things were different, but that’s just how it is.”

Somehow, he felt like he’d said the wrong thing. Sky’s brow furrowed.

“Maybe it is naïve. Maybe I’m being too idealistic. But I don’t think that’s right.”

Warriors felt small, like Sky was looking at him under a magnifying glass, and he didn’t like it. He was trying to be realistic. The world was dangerous and unfair; sometimes dangerous and unfair people were the only ones who had any power in it.

(He stubbornly refused to examine the strange feeling that arose in him when he acknowledged, even to himself, that the man whose cause he served was one of those people.)

He finally got in close, under Sky’s guard. He sliced and Sky twisted to block it, Sky brought his ‘sword’ down and Warriors dodged, then struck back. They spun and danced around each other, faster, ducking and leaping, neither landing a hit.

Warriors had to pull back to catch his breath. He wanted to turn the focus of this conversation around. “What’s your idea, then? What’s the end goal of all this? Sir Prophesied Chosen Hero?”

He wound up, arcing his broomstick for a powerful strike.

There was a very much not wooden clang as he was intercepted. The shockwave rattled back through his arm, giving him pins and needles.

His broomstick was crossed against a metal rod—a dented old tentpole, maybe. Sun had stepped in with flawless elegance to block his attack and was now turned to Sky, who was chewing his lip sheepishly.

“’It’ll be fine,’” she said, sarcastic, “’I just want to talk to him, he’s chained up, what’s he gonna do?’”

“I haven’t done anything!” Warriors thought he should mention. He put both hands in the air, broomstick clamped in his thumb.

“I’d hope not,” she warned, “because there’s an entire camp of people here who would make you _quickly_ regret it if you did.”

Warriors only lifted his hands higher in surrender.

“We’re just sparring.” Sky leaned in, speaking to her softly. “There’s no blades or anything dangerous; we were just having a conversation.”

“Well, next time, don’t have your conversation _alone,”_ she answered equally quiet, taking his hand. Warriors pretended to be distracted by something in the distance. “I trust you. I just want you to be careful.”

“I know,” Sky said. Warriors scuffed a boot and wondered if he should just go back to his tent. “I’m not alone, now, though, if you wanted to join…?”

She huffed a sigh. Warriors peeked to see what their odds were in terms of getting to continue versus him getting in enormous trouble; her eyebrows were raised, as if to say, _‘Really?’_ but a smile threatened to pull at her lips. Sky’s head was tilted at her with a painful amount of hope.

“Fine. Mister Soldier, how do you feel about two against one?”

“Scared,” Warriors answered honestly. The smile broke through on Sun’s face, not quite friendly, but Sky guffawed.

Sun twirled the rod in her hand until it whistled. “You should be.” She was quick to follow through.

Though Sun didn’t have the testing, careful thoughtfulness that Sky did in a fight, she made up for a lot with her speed. She also had the advantage of a better-balanced weapon; hers didn’t have such a clunky end to wrestle with.

Briefly, the thought crossed Warriors’s mind to snap his off and even the odds, but he figured the temporary advantage wasn’t worth the consequences he’d probably get for breaking their stuff.

For a minute, they had him fully occupied trying to keep up, too busy to talk. One would strike right after the other, giving him twice as many stances to watch, twice as many blocks to ready. They were good. That was just it, though; they’d strike one at a time. Their styles were the same, so they must have learned together, but they didn’t move in tandem. He could use that.

“Now you’re—” He ducked, twisted, blocked Sun’s snap-quick strikes, forcing Sky back with a chop at the end of the last one. “—the one not answering _my_ question.”

Sky opened his mouth, but Sun said, “Meaning the one you just asked when I walked in, about our plans for the future? Why, taking notes for later?”

Warriors recognized that he was on very, very thin ice. He needed to not look like she’d just called him out. “I was just…curious. About,” _not_ the rebels’ plans, something else, “all this chosen hero prophecy stuff.”

“The ‘chosen hero prophecy stuff’ you were trying to arrest us for. You’re curious about that.” Warriors saw how Sky winced at the hostility and disbelief she still had. He took the distraction as an opening.

Warriors angled a strike at Sky’s side, knowing Sky would dodge—straight into Sun. They collided with a yelp and went down in a pile.

He thought about getting a good hit in, then, but figured he’d gotten his point across. Sun was glaring at him, so he really, really tried to choke back his laugh, smushing a hand over his mouth and trying to look casual. Her hair was tangled in Sky’s chain mail and it ruined the effect. That and the fact that both were steadily flushing as they tried to untangle themselves.

Warriors coughed into a fist.

“There’s—uh—there’s not much to it,” Sky gingerly unthreaded Sun’s hair bit by bit, keeping his eyes locked on his work as his cheeks reddened. “Um. It’s just. Defeating Ganon. Saving the kingdom. That’s…what we’re gonna do.”

Understanding was beginning to dawn on Warriors. “You really do believe in it, don’t you?” He’d been told it was a story. A fabrication made up by those against Ganon to convince the people that they had divine power on their side, that the gods themselves were against the Emperor. But Sky wasn’t talking like someone telling a story. He was being serious.

“You say that like you don’t!” Sun scooped up her tentpole. “All that Goddess-condemned running you put us through and you don’t even think it’s real?!”

Warriors had to move quick to knock her swipe away, because this time she was aiming for the head in earnest. “I mean—it’s real in that a lot of people believe it, so I guess anyone they say is a ‘hero’ or ‘princess’ could be a political threat or figurehead or something—”

“By _Hylia!”_ She nearly broke his broomstick. “Tell that to the magic, glowing triangles on our hands yesterday! _‘Figurehead or something,’”_ she repeated under her breath.

She knocked the broom from his slack hand. It clattered across the bricks, smacking into the barrier.

“The…what?” Warriors said faintly.

“I know, it sounds hard to believe,” Sky must have mistaken his tone for doubt. “But it’s true. You can ask anyone here; they all saw it.”

What was—that couldn’t be—that—nobody else had seen the triforce on Warriors’s hand. Not a soul. They had no way of knowing what he’d seen so…so they must be telling the truth? That it had happened to them, too? Because they were a part of this prophecy? But—

There had to be some kind of mistake. He needed some time to think. He had to be wrong about something, because if it was all real, and that’s what it meant, then that would have to mean—that would mean he was—

“Huh,” he managed. He flexed his empty hand. “I guess you won. Nice hit.”

“Thanks.” Sun examined him, probably to try to figure out why he was acting so strange. “Sky, you satisfied?”

Sky was clearly concerned, but he nodded. “I guess so. What about you, Warriors?”

Warriors was still reeling but tried to drag together some kind of composure. “Um, yeah. Good fight. Thanks for the chance to stretch my legs a little. And…for the conversation. Y—uh.” He made half a gesture. “You’re both really good, um, separately. But you don’t…work together. In a fight. You should…work on…coordinating.” He didn’t know why he was telling them this, other than falling back on habit. In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t be treating enemies like he would younger recruits.

A small, real smile crept onto Sky’s face. “Thanks for the tip.” Sun nudged him gently with an elbow. “Oh, yeah. Um, I gotta put the handcuff back on.”

Warriors heaved a huge, dramatic sigh. “If you must.” He dropped down to sit back in his dumb, boring tent and thrust out a wrist.

After they’d left, leaning their heads together and murmuring to themselves, he finally let the act drop. He tugged both hands through his hair and pulled it like it would pull the thoughts in his brain into an order that made sense. He’d seen plenty of magic before, sure. The General could do things with a snap of his fingers that Warriors couldn’t begin to understand, and he’d seen more than his fair share of enchanted weapons. Powerful magic had saved his life, even, drawing him back from the brink of death.

But that wasn’t _destiny._ That wasn’t gods, or fate, or—or prophecy, a divine pattern to the thread of mortal lives. What prophecy could include _him?_ What Goddess would choose a servant of her greatest defier? If anything, agents of Hylia should be set _against_ him.

He fell against the stone wall with a thump, tracing the back of his left hand. Surely, that couldn’t be true. There had to be something here he didn’t understand.

He just needed to learn more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was intended to be like half a chapter in my outline but these punks apparently had so much to say to each other that now it's like 9k words long lol
> 
> According to my googling of ASL, Wild was essentially starting to say what he wrote later in his notebook, then asked Legend if he knew Sign. If anyone reading knows about sign language and sees something I could do better, feel free to give me some pointers! 
> 
> [one more note: some of Midna's dialogue is, of course, taken from Twilight Princess :) ]
> 
> And we're officially crossing 100k words!!! This is. the longest writing project I have created to date. I'd never have gotten this far without every single one of y'all that's given me feedback and support along the way, and I do mean that. It's gotten this far for a reason. So thank you! <3
> 
> Up next: Wild and Legend find out what's at the windmill. Hyrule and Twilight do a jailbreak.


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